Angels of Vegas
by RebelByrdie
Summary: A twisted series of murders have the CSIs stumped until it's almost too late... Warrick, Sara and Sofia, along with the rest of the crew must solve the case...before one of their own becomes a victim.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, premises of or anything to do with the television show, CSI. I make no financial gain from the production of this twisted tale.

Rated T for Teen: Scenes of graphic violence, adult situations and themes and coarse language.

Warning: While this story is very much case/action oriented...there is some slight implied femeslash. Nothing to worry yourself over, barely noticeable. If, however, the idea of two women flirting and maybe getting to first base horrifies you, please stop reading.

There's also some light WC, Warrick-Catherine, action. A little bit of flirting, little bit of angst and a lot of hard thinking.

Spoiler Warning: The following fic includes spoilers for all CSI episodes up to the season 6 finale, _Way to Go_. If, for whatever reason, you've yet to see this episode, and don't want to have it ruined for you, stop reading and wait until later. Trust me, I'll still be here...waiting by the computer wondering when you're going to come back...You know you will.

Author's Note: Part I of III: Angels of Vegas.

This fic picks up during the last half of _Way to Go_ and moves on from there. All right, while I usually focus on the lovely Sara and/or Sofia, and occasionally Catherine; this time around, Warrick Brown shall also be playing a big role. This fic is going to deal with a Warrick-Sara friendship among other things, but this IS NOT a Sara/Warrick Romance...I don't even pretend to understand those... I'll already go ahead and apologize for any Warrick OOC-ness, I rarely write Warrick, so this shall be interesting.

I'm sort of changing up my style this time around. As I said before, this is more action driven then anything else. I switch POVs, but it should be easy to tell who is who... Mostly we see everything from either third person or Warrick's POV, though there are some moments soley dedicated to Sara, Sofia and Catherine... If something doesn't make sense or is confusing, too general, blah blah blah, please tell me so I can fix it...It all makes sense to me in my head and I'm working sans-beta reader here, people.

This is only the first part of a three part series...one will flow into another and while this story is kind of light of the ladies, the next story will be all about them...I just have to lay the foundation here...not that this story isn't awesome in it's own right, cause it is.

As always, reviews are not only appreciated, they are celebrated by small 'happy dances' that make my room mates think I'm crazy. I love constructive criticism and good suggestions or points often worm their way into the story and my writing style. I am always looking to correct errors and mistakes...though at this point I think me trying to improve my spelling is battle that I can not win. Probably need to find a beta reader...

Character owchies ahead!

Now, I'm done yakking, go read!

Angels of Vegas

Part I of III

By RebelByrdie

_Prologue_

Harper Tennyson kicked the back door open, she wouldn't usually do this, but both of her arms were weighted down with large bags of garbage. She tossed the two sacks into the dumpster and looked around. "Meli? Meli, you out here?" The only answer o her inquiry was the butt of a cigarette, so fresh that it's tip was still glowing a sluggish red color. "Damn it to Hell and back again! She jumps my ass about efficiency and then leaves me to close the shift by myself! Bitch!" The disgruntled woman growled out a few more offensive and colorful phrases and then turned to go back inside. The sickly yellow of the old security light made the familiar corporate coffee shop logo on the back of her shirt glow.

Harper, for all of her bluster and show, never saw the struggling form of her assistant manager in the shadows just beyond the dumpster. She was far too concerned with counting her tips up to notice that Meli had been in the clutches of a deadly killer.

Meli looked around frantically. She'd been thrown in the back of some old SUV. It smelled so bad. She didn't know where she was...who he was...what was going on! When the old truck creaked to a stop, her heart leapt to her throat. The latch opened and she started begging...something she used to think was beneath her. "Please, mister, please. I'll give you anything. Just don't kill me! My dad has money! I have money! I'll do anything, please!" Her hands and feet were tied together, she struggled, trying to free herself as she spoke. "You really don't want to hurt me!" He reached in and grabbed her shirt. He pulled her out of the back and she looked around. The stars above, the sand bellow, they were in the desert. Though it was dark, she could make out shapes around her, large gargantuan figures. Suddenly ninth grade came back to her and the absurd thought of 'This was how Gulliver must have felt when he was on the island with the giant people' skated across her panicked mind. The man walked with her thrown over his shoulder, her pleas, though close to his head, fell on deaf ears.

"Please, mister, I'll do anything...please don't kill me! I don't want to die!" He reached a shack and put her down just inside the ramshackle door. Tears streamed down her face. He bent down and wiped them. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you...I'm going to make you an Angel."

The look in his eye was vacant and crazed. Melody Wendell screamed, a high pitched terror filled shriek as she realized that yes, no matter what she said or did...he was going to kill her. Just like in space, though, in the middle of the desert, no one could hear you scream.

Author's Note: This Prologue is dedicated to the very special person who plied her evil charms and had me dismissed from my job.


	2. Chapter I: Turning Points

_Chapter I_

_Turning Points_

Turning points came around all the time, you just had to know where to see them. Warrick Brown knew that every small decision could end up with big consequences. He'd turned down semi-pro baseball for college, a good decision to be sure. Other decisions had turned out less fortunate. The death of Holly Gribbs often came back to haunt him. The guilt from leaving the young rookie by herself, which ultimately lead to the young woman's death, often sat in the pit of his gut, killing his appetite and robbing him of sleep. There were other mistakes, miscalculations in his life and career that he wasn't proud of.

The latest of his mistakes had ended his marriage. He'd jumped to conclusions. Tina, his wife, was not a suspect and in marriage you couldn't just let what you think was evidence make all of your decisions. His words to her still haunted him. Neither of them had mentioned divorce, but he had yet to go home. He still wore his wedding band, but he found that he wasn't sure if he wanted to anymore. He was at another turning point in his life.

Despite his own problems, Warrick Brown considered himself to be a good man. So when he'd heard someone crying, he'd gone to check it out. It had been during those dark hours when they hadn't known if Jim Brass would live or die. They were all running on caffeine, nerves and hope... He'd been passing by the drying room, a very creepy joint, when he'd heard something. At first he thought it was Greg on the phone, he'd found the reformed lab rat on his cell more then once in there. The sounds, though, were not a spiky-haired CSI's words, but quiet, heart breaking sobs.

He went in, expecting to see perhaps Catherine, or maybe one of the techs, or one of the guys who'd tried to find a quiet place to show their grief. No one came to the drying room all that much, so it was perfect for quiet moments of reflection...or grief. So he pushed the door open, ready to talk or give comfort. When he saw who was sitting on the ground, muffling her sobs with her knees, all of his words dried up.

Warrick's relationship with Sara Sidle had never been...easy. It wasn't that he didn't like her...they just had a series of bad circumstances between them. She'd come to Vegas to investigate him. She'd been only one small step up from the rat squad, Internal Affairs. Then she'd been Grissom's pet, his go-to girl. She'd butted heads with him more then once. He and the workaholic woman had rarely seen eye-to-eye. They worked together just fine, most of the time, but his relationship with Sara outside of work was...well, there wasn't one, really. They'd never connected...of course that was true about most people at the lab save Grissom...and perhaps Greg. The shift split hadn't helped matters between himself and Sara at all. When they'd come back together, after Nick was out of danger, safe and sound, well things had pretty much gone back to the status-qou. He couldn't say that Sara was his best friend...but.

Seeing the usually strong, stoic and steely Sara Sidle folded up on the floor crying...it tugged at him. Many people, and unfortunately he was guilty of it as well, had compared her to Grissom. Had said that she had no feelings. He'd seen her during Nick's ordeal, if she had broken down, no one had caught it. This time, she was caught. When she looked up at him, brown eyes bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles of fatigue he realized that she wasn't just a Grissom clone. He, himself, had always been a private person, he'd not even told his best friends about his wedding...Sara, though, Sara was the epitome of private...and he'd stumbled onto her at her most vulnerable.

As soon as she saw him, Sara jumped up, and used her sleeve to swipe at the tears. "Warrick!" Suddenly, the always confidante woman was nervous. "What do you need?" He looked at her, "You okay?" She flashed him a smile, "I'm fine." He narrowed his eyes at her. How many times had he seen that too-bright smile and heard those brave lies? Sara Sidle was most definitely not fine."Sara..." She roughly wiped her eyes again, "What? I'm fine. Do you need me for something?" Her voice cracked and he knew that the strong facade she was putting on would not last much longer. He took the hand that she'd been wiping her tears with in his own. "It's all right, Sara, you can cry." For a moment, he thought she'd fight him. He expected her to square those shoulders, throw up her chin and walk away. He expected her to be the stony workaholic he was used to. So when she gave in and threw her arms around him and buried her face into his shirt, he was shocked. He was scared. He was ashamed. He wrapped his arms around her slim figure and let her cry. The sobs wracked her body and all he could do was hold on...and try to comfort her. By the time her sobs had become sniffles, he'd come to a decision. It was time to put the past behind them. Yes, he and Sara had been through their share of problems...but it was high time, no past time, that they moved on.

She pulled away, much calmer, and very embarrassed. "Sorry...I just...sorry, I didn't mean to go all cry-baby on you." He shrugged, "It's no big, "You wanna talk about it?" Though she had been reluctant at first, they had ended up sitting on the floor of drying room, surrounded by the clothes of countless victims, talking. It was then and there that he finally met Sara the woman, not just CSI Sidle. Sara was scared, worried for Jim. She and the detective had a close relationship, it seemed. He'd helped her with her drinking...issues and had talked to her about her PEAP counseling sessions, had encouraged her to go. He was the one she turned to for help, for advice. He was more then a colleague, he was her friend, her family. Warrick was surprised to find that the two had occasionally spent a holiday together. Brass's daughter, Ellie, always left him high and dry during holidays...and though she didn't mention it, Warrick knew that Sara had family issues of her own. Sara and Brass...how had he missed it? He knew how. Everyone called Sara Grissom's pet...but in reality, she turned to Brass when she needed help, comfort, friendship. When she was all talked out, he couldn't ever remember the brunette ever talking so much, he hugged her again. "Listen, Sara, you shouldn't have kept this in. Next time you need to talk, you can come to me." The smile that lit up her face had been true and bright. Then their respective pagers had gone off and they parted ways. As he had walked to trace, Warrick promised himself that he would keep an eye on Sara...especially if Brass didn't...pull through.

When they'd stood at that window and Jim looked at him...Warrick had to smile, his heart felt lighter. He and the Capitan had been through their ups and downs, but he was a good man, a good friend. When Sara had spontaneously hugged him, he'd smiled again. With his marriage in shambles, it was good to know that he still had good friends, that he could be a good friend. As far as turning points went, it had been a damn shame that Jim had to get shot for him to wake up and see what was right in front of him the whole time.

Author's Note: Now, I'm no fan of weepy Sara...but the way that three times damned episode portrayed her... I don't think it showed any of the CSIs properly upset, well Sofia...never mind, I'll get to that a little bit later...Anyway, this whole scene came from that cute Sara-Warrick hug moment at the end of _Way to Go_. It struck me as odd, I mean Nick was standing right there, and I've always thought that Nick and Sara were closer then Warrick and Sara...and Sara's not usually so demonstrative...so why the hug? So that's where that scene came from. Also had flash-backs and angst. Warrick angst...Never done that before...hope it came out all right. Please please give me some feedback, especially on Warrick!


	3. Chapter II: Friends

_Chapter II_

_Friends_

The nurses made them leave, Jim needed his rest. They broke off, headed for their respective homes. They had all had a day full of cases and worry. Now that everything was solved and Jim was on the road to recovery, they could go home. Not that home was a very appealing place for him right now, but he could really go for eight horizontal hours in a quiet place.

He was half way out of the hospital, another less then fuzzy reminder of his wife and his royal mess up, when Catherine caught up with him. "Hey, you mind giving me a ride back to the labs?" He shook his head, "Nah, come on, let's get you to your car so you can get home to Lindsey, how is she, by the way?" He always asked after Lindsey, the teen was a big part of Catherine's life. Catherine sighed, "She's getting better, but she still thinks the world revolves around her, but she's fourteen so that's to be expected." He shrugged, "It's a tough age." Catherine sighed and attempted to rub the fatigue from her blue eyes. "I love her though." Warrick grinned, "Well we'll get you home so you can go hug her, in fact, give her a hug for me too." Catherine sent him a trademark Willows grin, then her eyes sparked. "Speaking of hugs, what was that between you and Sara?" He unlocked his SUV and they got in. "She's taking this all pretty hard, she just needed a hug, that's all. Don't worry, you're still my favorite girl." The last part of that sentence fell on deaf ears, because Catherine was already on one of her 'Sara rants' Being one of his best friends, he'd heard many of Cath's rants. The Sara rants were not uncommon. It shamed him to admit it, but in the past he'd at best ignored them and at worst, he'd agreed whole heartedly with Catherine.

"Taking it hard? She's been too busy playing with Gil all day to acknowledge that Jim has been in a coma. I don't think I saw her at the hospital, not until now. Unless it's rape or domestic abuse, she is one cool customer. I mean even Gil showed emotion! He was really upset, we all were. I even heard that Sofia went all protective!"

Warrick found himself gripping the steering wheel so hard that his hands hurt. "Listen, Cath..." What was he supposed to say? He couldn't come right out and tell Catherine that he'd held Sara while she'd cried, that was private. Had Sara been at the hospital? Yes. Too much, probably. She'd stayed there, keeping watch when she should have been sleeping. She wasn't the only one who had, either. "Just because Sara doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeves, doesn't mean she doesn't have them. This really upset her." Catherine rolled her baby-blues. "Yeah, because all the laughing and smiling I saw her doing with Griss really screams 'upset'. He scowled, sometimes when Catherine got on a roll, it was very hard to stop her. "Catherine, you think what you want about Sara, but she's my friend and I'm going to defend her. You ride her too much as it is, but don't you say she doesn't care about Jim. This is killing her on the inside. Take a look at her the next time you see her. Bags under the eyes, fake smiles, she's been picking at her food. Before you jump to conclusions you should really look at her." He pulled to a stop in the lab's parking lot, two spaces over from Catherine's car. "Lighten up on Sara, she's not as bad as you make her out to be...and she could really use some good friends." Though Catherine scowled at him as she got out, he knew that his words had gotten through. Catherine was a good person, sometimes she just let her temper get the better of her. Now that he'd pointed out the obvious, she'd see and she'd understand.

Now that he'd played the role of Sara's knight in shining armor, he was at a loss. He drove around Vegas, unsure of what to do. Could he go home? Should he go home? Should he try to talk to Tina? He'd accused her of cheating on him, he'd been wrong, so very wrong. He scrubbed his hands across his face. It was times like these, when he was upset and restless, that he regretted giving up Blackjack.

* * *

By the time his next shift rolled around, he'd done a lot of thinking, a little sleeping and not much else. He could feel the strain with every step, but he wouldn't let it effect his work. Bringing your problems to the lab was always a bad idea, sometimes it made you slow...and sometimes it got innocent people hurt and even killed.

He was finishing up a slam-dunk B&E. It was a simple case, something so routine that he barely had to exert himself. It was one of those nights when he was morbid and wished for a juicy murder investigation...to take his mind off of his own troubles. It was a quiet night, though, and after he closed his B&E, he was on paper-work duty. Mindless, repetitive work that gave him ample time to think about all of his woes. He finished up half of his never ending pile and decided that it was time for a break. He stretched and stood. The trip to the break room was full of greetings and shouts. The lab was in a very good mood tonight. With Jim in recovery and no pressing cases, everyone was light of heart. He walked into the break room. Well, not everyone. There Sara sat, poking at her salad, thinking intense thoughts about something or other. Before he'd have ignored the intense look on her face, or worse, he'd have ignored her completely. That was then, though, and this was now. He flopped down across from her. "What are you pouting about?" She looked up at him and gave him a half grin. "This is not pouting. This is brooding." He shrugged, "What's the difference?" She put her fork down. "Pouting is a a childish pity-party, brooding is a very adult-like long and thoughtful process of working out a problem." He feigned understanding. "So it pouting with a purpose." The half grin turned into a whole one and some of the tension dissipated from her face, "Exactly." They sat for a moment, the he started again, "So want to tell me what you're thinking about?" She shrugged and her brown eyes suddenly became very distant. "Did you ever get something you thought you wanted...only to find that you didn't really want it at all...that it wasn't what you'd thought it would be?" Warrick blinked, there she went, Sara being psychic again. He absently twisted his wedding band around his finger. "Yeah, actually." She looked up at him, "So what would you do about it?" Her tone and question were both casual, but there was a sense of desperation behind her words. Some how Warrick had a feeling that this had something to do with the way she'd car-pooled home with Grissom last night...and why the slightly eccentric etymologist was in such a good mood today. "Well...I know that if you make a mistake, especially a personal one, you have to face it down and make a decision. Every decision can potentially have huge consequences, even small ones." He shook his head, "Like leaving a crime scene for just a few minutes or a coin-flip." Sara reached out and patted his hand, "How did you get so smart, Warrick?" He grinned, "Well I didn't have to go to Harvard, I was born this wise, girl." They both smiled and moved on to less...serious topics.

Author's Note: And that is ALL I'm going to say about that three times damned scene at the end of _Way to Go_. As we can see, Sara is...not happy with it...she regrets it. Of course it all comes back on Warrick and his own problems. Once again, we see the return of Bitchy Catherine, but no worries, Warrick set her strait, she'll behave herself...and those who are familiar with my work are rolling their eyes and going "suuuure" but I promise, I'll...she'll behave herself...mostly.


	4. Chapter III: Catching a Case

_Chapter III_

_Catching a Case_

Shifts came and went, cases came through and most were solved, some went cold and others were closed with the frustrating knowledge that no matter what they thought they knew, the evidence was just not there. Such was the life of a CSI. For the most part, it was a slow couple of days. Warrick was almost happy when he got the assignment of a 419 in the desert. He was actually pleased to find that he was paired up with Sara on the case. Since they'd gotten closer he'd come to find that they had a lot in common, more then she'd ever let on before. They both liked music and while their tastes clashed in some places, it was nice to have someone who understood the need to create and revel in music. Sara had a dry sense of humor that made him smile more often then not and despite what others thought, she did know things outside of forensics, she had other interests. At the moment she was riding shotgun, and they had some moody blues pouring out of the stereo. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed, but her fingers tapped along with the beat as she silently mouthed the words.

Warrick drove down the highway and was once again struck by how beautiful the desert sky could be. People tended to forget about the stars when all they saw when they looked up was neon. Out here in the crisp desert night, the stars and moon light up the road, dancing across the sand and stone of the lonely desert terrain. Eventually though, blue lights came into view and he began to slow down, they had finally reached the far-flung crime scene.

He put the SUV in park and turned to see Sara stretching and opening her door. She looked around. "You want to talk to the Detective or David?" He grinned, "I'll talk to David, every time you talk to him, he takes about thirty extra minutes to flirt with you." Sara stuck out her tongue and went around to the back hatch to retrieve her kit.

He too got out, retrieved his kit and started to fall into the routine of forensics work. The Detective who caught the case was Sofia Curtis, he could see her off at the edge of the scene talking to Sara. He waved at David, who was kneeling by the body. All thoughts of Sara, Sofia and yes, even Tina, were pushed to the back of his mind. The nude woman on the ground before him took precedence.

* * *

Sofia Curtis watched for the black SUV that would bring her tonight's CSIs. Like all detectives, she had her favored CSIs. She enjoyed working with Greg and occasionally Nick. She found working with Grissom...interesting to say the least. Warrick was, well he was quiet. He did his job and did it well, but they weren't friends. As for Catherine Willows, God help her, the woman knew her stuff but sometimes Sofia wanted to throttle her. Her hands down favorite CSI, though, was definitely Sara Sidle. The brunette CSI was passionate, dedicated, talented, and they got along very well...not to mention she had that adorable gap toothed grin on her... So when she saw the brunette get out of the passenger door of the Tahoe, well she couldn't help but grin a little. The grin turned to a full blown smile when Sara split from Warrick and headed her way.

* * *

Sara made her way across the scene, careful to make sure she wasn't ruining any possible footprints. Detective Sofia Curtis stood at the edge near her unmarked Sedan. The woman's all black ensemble made her almost melt into the night...almost. Sofia smiled and inclined her head, "Sara." Sara found herself smiling right back. "Hey Sofia." Besides Jim, who was still in the hospital and would be for a while, Sofia was definitely Sara's favorite Detective to work with. She was smart, knew what she was doing and since she had been a CSI herself, she never gave Sara crap about being on the 'Geek Squad' or doing her job...and she had that irresistible swagger. Sara shook her head to free herself from _that_ train of thought. "What have we got?" Sofia's smile dissipated. "D.B. is a Jane Doe. Caucasian, though possibly some Latino in her back ground. Approximately twenty-five years of age. She was found a little over an hour ago by a couple of teenage star-gazers, though they were sans telescope, if you get my drift." Sara grinned, she did. She looked over at the youngsters who'd stumbled on to the body, college age kids, the boy had probably pulled the old 'Under the stars' routine. Unfortunately for both of them, their evening had been cut very short. "They swear they didn't touch the body, and I tend to believe them, especially since there are two puddles of vomit to deal with." Sara nodded and looked around, "Any other thoughts?" Sofia shrugged, "Looks like a body dump, purification hasn't set in yet and I didn't see any signs of animals, so she's probably only been out here a few hours...I took a gander at the body, I didn't see any obvious COD." They began to walk the perimeter of the scene. "I did see some tire tracks, I made sure to watch where everyone was so we didn't mess them up for you." Sara smiled, "Thanks, I'll take a mold and maybe we can come up with something." Sofia nodded then looked over her shoulder, "Well, I've got to go talk to the uniforms. Happy hunting." Sara nodded and turned her mind to the evidence, forcing herself to not watch the detective's retreating form.

* * *

David removed the long thermometer from the Jane Doe's liver. "She's pretty cool, I'm putting death at twenty eight hours ago, give or take." Warrick looked at the body, "No apparent signs of animal or insect activity. No doubt this was a body dump." David nodded, "Some defensive wounds, but no obvious signs of a physical struggle...petechial hemorrhaging indicates suffocation, though...You'll have to wait for the autopsy report for a more exact COD." David stepped away and Warrick set his camera for the powerful night flash and started photographing the woman. She had long, dark, curly hair and had been rather attractive in life. Her ashen gray skin had probably been rosy and tanned, but now death had stripped it of it's sun-kissed tan. She had been short and petite, no more then 5'2", probably around one hundred pounds. She was nude so he could see the tattoo that covered her upper thigh, it was an unicorn head. He snapped careful photographs of that, there probably weren't too many of those floating around Vegas. He bent down and looked at her hands. Her fingertips were stained brown. The odor was not foul, though, it was familiar...it smelled like coffee.

She was young, she was pretty, she'd been around coffee and now she was dead, definitely murdered, and her body had been left to rot in the desert.


	5. Chapter IV: Only in Vegas

_Chapter IV_

_Only in Vegas_

Sara took the mold of the tire, but she figured that it was going to be a long shot. It was, to her naked eye, a generic tire, probably from a pickup truck or small SUV. There were literally tens of thousands of those types of vehicles roaming around Vegas and Clark County. There were also some footprints, eyeballing them, she judged them to be men's size 10, probably a work boot of some kind...the kind of boot that everyone and their brother had in their closet. From construction work to hiking, boots were everywhere.

She looked up at the stars. It could never just be open and shut, no the perps had to make it complicated. When she was in a foul mood, she blamed the growing trend of smart criminals on shows like _Hard Crime _and _Law and Order_. Most of the time, though, she just went along with it. She just had to be smarter then the average criminal, and that wasn't much of a challenge. She just had to know, to quote the best fingerprint tech on the West Coast, "What is common place and what is unique." She missed Jacqui, the woman had been a whiz with prints and all the techs since had fallen just short of her skills. Of course, Sara had thought they'd never be able to replace Greg in the DNA lab, but Mia, followed by Wendy had proved her wrong.

Sara blinked, her train of thought had once again jumped it's tracked and frolicked out in a field for no apparent reason whatsoever. She'd been having that problem ever since she'd spent that night with Grissom. Her concentration was shot, she was sleeping poorly and she had ended up avoiding the man like the plague...which was difficult since he was her direct supervisor. Warrick's words repeated in her head...she had to make a decision...confront the problem. God, six years and she was just now having to confront _the_ problem.

She scowled and tried to remember what she had been about to do before she'd gotten off on a tangent named Gilbert Grissom. She sighed and reoriented herself to the crime scene. Everything had been collected, the sketches and photos were done, the body had been taken away. This site was almost finished. She did another walk-around with her flashlight. Her eyes darted around, looking for any slight trace of a clue. She found nothing but starlight, moonbeams, Warrick leaning against the SUV, talking on his phone and Sofia Curtis. Sofia was also leaning against her car, and talking, but her conversation was with herself.

Sara waved at Sofia and headed back to Warrick and their department issued Tahoe. She gave him a nod and moved to the back to stow her kit. The three of them all gave the crime scene one last look before they started back towards the bright lights of the city.

* * *

With Doc Robbins still working on the autopsy, Warrick took the evidence to log it in and send it to the various techs it needed to go to and Sara went and pulled up the Missing Persons database. They needed to put a name to the face of Jane Doe # 137.

Neither CSI made much progress. It was annoying to say the least. Sofia was out chasing leads, but with so little to go on...well, all three investigators were hoping Doctor Albert Robbins, ME would have something productive to add from his autopsy.

* * *

The man in question, an intelligent, rather witty, jolly fellow...if he didn't say so himself, was finishing up what had been one of his most interesting cases to date. Vegas had, over the years, thrown many things at him. From bear attacks to men in corsets...yeah, Vegas was an interesting place to practice. This case, though, it nearly took the cake. He hummed a tune as he dialed two pager numbers from memory. First, Warrick Brown, the man had caught himself in a marriage snag. He'd said nothing, but Al knew...it was a sixth sense that all married men had...they knew when one of their own was in the dog house. The second call went to Sara Sidle. Now there was a woman who had taken the idea of privacy and made it into a way of life. He had noticed that the two CSIs in question had grown closer since Jim's shooting. He took off his bloody gloves with a snap. He smiled, it had been a relief when he'd found out Brass was going to make it...He'd autopsied far too many friends and colleagues over the years, he didn't want to add Jim Brass to that list.

* * *

Warrick's pager went off, he checked it and was happy to see the morgue's number on it. The evidence, while it would be good later, was doing him no good at the minute. Tires that half the state probably owned, boots that could have come from anywhere and the brown coffee residue...this case was light on the evidence, they'd solved with less before, but damn was it hard to prove in court.

Sara was already making her way to the autopsy bay when he ran into her. "Hey, find anything on the database?" She shook her head, "Not yet." The resolute look in the woman's brown eyes promised that she would find their victim in the vast databases that the LVPD kept. Warrick didn't doubt she would, she had done it before and she would do it again.

They arrived in the morgue together and immediately went to the slab where the body was laid out. Doc Robbins looked up at them. "This is quite possibly one of the strangest cases I've ever seen in all my time in Vegas."

Warrick blinked, it was just a body dump, what on earth could be that ground shattering about it? Sara was, apparently with him on the 'So What Train' She crossed her arms over her chest, "Do tell."

The Doc's eyes sparked with something that couldhave beenconsidered macabre enthusiasm. "There was no outward indication of COD. When I autopsied her, it became apparent though. She asphyxiated." Sara frowned, "No patiechial hemoraging, though. She was starved of oxygen?" The ME nodded, "When one gas replaces oxygen on the hemoglobin granules attached to the red blood cells, a person dies." Both Warrick and Sara looked at him, "Okay...so she was suffocated?" The man went around the table and uncovered the girl's lungs in a tray. "That's where it gets interesting, I ran a tox-scan on her blood, but when it came back, I didn't believe it, so I looked at her lungs to double check." Warrick nodded, "And..." He looked at them both. "What makes Vegas such a tourist hot spot?" Both Sara and Warrick blinked, momentarily confused by the change of subject. "Aaah, Doc..." He handed them a report. "She died of neon gas poisoning." Warrick's jaw dropped, "You're kidding!" Robbins shook his head. "No, unfortunately I'm not." Sara scowled, the gravity of the situation hitting home, they were in Las Vegas, the neon capital of the world...This case just kept getting better and better.


	6. Chapter V: Making Headway

_Chapter V_

_Making Headway_

Sara rested her head in her hands and held in a groan. There were at least three hundred manufacturers, handlers, and buyers for neon gas in Vegas...and that didn't include private holdings and the city's holdings. It wouldn't be impossible to track down the neon...but it was going to be damn hard. To add to that problem, she'd still not identified Jane.

Her mood had gone from aggravated to pissy, Greg's words, not her own. So when Sofia called her, her brusque answer of "Sidle" was a little sharper then usual.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Sara cursed herself, "No, sorry, Sofia...I'm just hitting a brick wall every time I turn around here."

"I think I might be able to help."

Sara leaned back to rest against the back of the computer chair. "If you have a lead I'll buy you a cup of coffee, the good stuff."

Sofia snickered over the line, "Oh the irony."

Sara rolled her eyes, "Was that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Melody Wendell."

Sara frowned, "Never heard of her."

"She's our vic."

Sara felt a grin steal across her face, "You're sure!"

"The missing persons report was just filed by her boyfriend. The officer who took it down sent it strait to me. I want to bring him in to identify ASAP...but we can let Brown handle that. I want you to meet me at 14th and Vine."

Sara blinked, "And the significance of that intersection is..."

A low chuckle came over the phone, "Well besides buying me that cup of coffee, we need to interview the last people who had contact with Melody, her coworkers at the Java Hut."

* * *

The Java Hut was a growing national chain of deli style cafes that specialized in healthy food and gourmet coffee, Greg swore by the place. It, honestly, did not impress Sara. It was a coffee shop, there was nothing overly special about it...except that one of it's Assistant Mangers had been Melody Wendell. Sofia was standing on the sidewalk by the door, waiting on her. "Sara." Sara smiled and they went in together. Much like coffee shops all over the country, there was some quiet jazz coming form discrete speakers somewhere, college students were attacking their laptops with a vengeance and the place smelled strongly of coffee beans. 

They approached the counter, behind the register was a twenty-something year old woman with brown hair and a bright smile. "Hi, welcome to the Java Hut!" Sofia flashed her badge, "I need to speak to the manager." The girl went pale, "JAKE! GET OUT HERE!" Another twenty-something came out of a back area. "What?" The girl turned, "These cops want to talk to the manager and last time I checked you get to wear that hat." The acne-ridden, freckle faced blonde looked at Sara and Sofia and swallowed a few times. "Sure, let's just go back to the office."

* * *

He looked from one of them to the other. "Meli's dead!" If he'd been pale before, now the young assistant manager was ashen. "I can't believe this." Sofia nodded, "I understand you're upset. We'll need to see any thing she has here, a locker perhaps...and we need to talk to anyone who worked with her on the night of her disappearance. He nodded, "Yeah. I'll show you her locker...and Harper worked with her on Tuesday...she's in back."

* * *

Harper Tennyson was in the small kitchen area, her hands flying around preparing food. Her mop of red curls was pulled back in a bun and she was singing along to the Rock music that poured out of the small stereo that someone had shoved in the kitchen. They followed the manager, Jake, into the small area. "Yo, Harper." She looked up, obviously very busy. "Jake, I'm moving as fast as I can here." He frowned, "Well, get Andrew out of the dish room and he can take over. This is Detective Curtis and CSI Sidle, they're here about Meli." The woman pushed a strand of sweat damp hair out of her face, "What about her?" 

With Meli's locker emptied into a series of evidence bags, all that was left was to talk to the last person to see her alive, Harper Tennyson.

"She's dead, Melody's dead?" Sofia nodded, "You didn't report her missing when she just dissipated before the end of her shift?" The girl shook her head, "Melody gets...got...Oh God...away with...mur-allot." The redhead looked from one of them to the other, "We didn't get along, but I certainly didn't want her to die!" Sara nodded, "No ones saying you did, but just walk us through the evening." Harper nodded, "We were getting ready to change shifts, the cafe never closes...I mean it's Vegas...anyway. We had just set the coffees to rebrew when she decided to go out for a smoke. We'd already shared...words that evening so I was kind of glad she left. About twenty minutes later I took out the trash and she wasn't in the ally. I figured she left me high and dry so I held down the fort until Reanna, the graveyard assistant manager and Todd came in. I reported that she'd left early but that was it."

Sofia nodded, "Now, you mentioned that you and Melody had words...what were you fighting about?" The red head sighed, "I wasn't fast enough for her, wasn't efficient enough. Basically I was her scape goat. We didn't like each other from day one, she was working pretty hard on getting me fired." Sara nodded, "So you were mad at her?" The girl crossed her arms. "Well of course I was I have bills to...Oh My God, you don't think I did this do you!" Sara kept her answer diplomatic, "We're just investigating right now." They got the girl's contact information and sent her back to work. It was clear, though...Harper may not have been Melody's best friend, but she certainly had not killed the other woman.

* * *

They ordered coffee. Sara, who had yet to eat, got the vegetarian wrap and went ahead and bought Sofia one of the cream cheese danishes she knew the blonde was fond of. They balanced out the food between them and when they got to a table, Sara grinned when Sofia pulled a chair out for her. "My, my, Sofia, you're acting like this is our first date." The blonde snagged her cup of coffee and grinned, "If this is a date, why did I pay for my own coffee?" Sara sat down across from her and grabbed at her own coffee, "Hey, I got you the danish, didn't I!" Sofia's blue eyes twinkled, "So you did." 

Author's Note: If there is such a place as the Java Hut, I didn't know about it and the use of the name is sheer coincidence. So no harm meant, please don't sue. The place is, actually, slightly based on the place I used to work at. On a brighter note, Sara and Sofia on a "first date". It's about damn time I had some fun in this fic!


	7. Chapter VI: Back to the Start

_Chapter VI_

_Back to the Start_

Less then three days after finding the body of Melody Wendell, Warrick, Sara and Sofia were out in the desert again. Sofia looked up at them, "I'm getting a feeling of de-ja-vous here." Sara smirked and put her kit down on the ground. The horizon was painted in orange and red and tinted with just the beginnings of violet and indigo, the desert sunset was gorgeous. The body the sun set over was not.

Sofia began to go over it, "John Doe, found nude in the desert by a passing tour helicopter. No physical sign of COD, but since we're about 2 miles from where Melody Wendell's body was dumped...I've got a good feeling that if we plug him up, he'll light up like a Christmas tree." Sara nodded, "We may have a serial on our hands." Warrick nodded gravely, "I've got that feeling too...but until Robbins confirmed we should work this as a separate case." Both women nodded and set off to their respective jobs.

Despite what people might think and what Hollywood might portray, police work was not all that difrint from any other career. It had it's ups and it's downs, it's good aspects and it's bad and it was full of long boring stretches of paper work and repetition. This, though, was just down right creepy. No fibers...just like the Wendell case. Non descript tire tracks, and a naked d.b. Warrick wondered if his life was on a rerun. The victim, this time, however, was a man. David, and he agreed that he was approximately fifty years of age and he was Caucasian. The eerie similarities to the Wendell case stayed with Warrick, but it might just be that...eerily similar. Serials rarely switched gender, and this three hundred pound golden-oldie was definitely no woman...though he hadn't been much of a man either.

* * *

Faced once again with skimpy evidence, they had Robbins rush the autopsy. He confirmed their suspicions. There were more signs of struggle, bruises and a blow to the head, the COD had been neon gas poisoning...which meant that Vegas had a very twisted and very crafty killer on the lose. 

They'd made head way, but in the end when it came down to it...they had no suspect, no motive and very little evidence. They had two dead people and no leads. They were back at the beginning again.

* * *

The second victim was quickly identified as Gene Taylor, a low income father of three. He'd been reported missing when he hadn't showed up to work the day before. 

Knowing that, Warrick and Sara began the painstaking process of putting together victim profiles. He took Taylor and she took Wendell. After a night of work, they had very little to show for it. The case board was annoyingly well ordered...and revealed absolutely nothing.

Sara paced the room. "Melody Wendell was twenty-six, engaged and she had no criminal record, not even a parking ticket." Sara scoffed, "Hell, even I get parking tickets." She waved her hand vaguely in the air and continued, "She worked at the Java Hut as an assistant manager. The workers Sofia and I talked made it clear that she wasn't very popular, but none of them had motive to kill her. Fiance has an air-tight alabi, he was doing National Guard maneuvers out by Lake Meade." She frowned at the picture of the young woman. "No Church affiliations, no gym memberships, no gambling debts, no children. Her parents are right here in Vegas, she was a native."

She looked at Warrick and he sighed. "Gene Taylor was fifty-one, married to Sylvia Taylor. Oldest son, Mitch, is doing time for possesion with intent to sell; daughter, Anna, is fifteen and pregnant, youngest son, Kyle, is eight..Taylor bounced from job to job...Had a record of petty theft, domestic abuse and drunk and disorderly." He ran his hands over the back of his neck, "Frankly, these two were as different as two people could be. She still lived with her parents in Henderson, he's from the wrong side of the tracks. I don't see one thing that connects them...except they're both natives."

Sara crossed her arms and stared at the board, as if glaring at it would make it cough up some kind of answer. "This case makes less and less sense the further along we go." Warrick nodded, "Tell me about it...and all we can do is wait for him to do it again."

They wouldn't have to wait long.


	8. Chapter VII: Dating, Divorcing, Dying

_Chapter VII_

_Dating, Divorcing and Dying_

Sara had to grin when the text message popped up on her phone as she shut her locker, ready to head home for some much needed sleep.

_'2nd date: breakfast, meet me out front'_

There was no need for a signature, Sara had only had one "first date" in...well a very long time. The idea of breakfast with Sofia was oddly enticing. The fact that they were referring to these outings as dates made her smile...and, yes, there were even a couple of butterflies. Sofia Curtis was a beautiful woman and even entertaining the idea of dating her was enough to make Sara a little bit...excited.

She exited the crime lab without a look back and smiled a full and toothy grin when she saw the Detective leaning up against her car, aviator sunglasses hiding her blue eyes...and that one extra button on her blue shirt was open...oh yes, Sofia Curtis was a beautiful woman. "So where are we going?" Sofia grinned, "I thought we'd head over to this organic restaurant I like and then I'd like to go see Jim, you in?" Sara smiled and slid into the passenger seat of the car, "Second date, huh. Sounds good to me." Sofia smirked and got into the car too. They left the parking lot with a slight squeal of tires and a round of feminine laughter.

* * *

"Warrick Brown, you have a delivery at Reception, that's CSI Brown, you have a delivery at reception." Warrick tore himself away from the evidence he was examining for a simple smash and grab and went up front. When he saw the man in the Italian cut business suit, his stomach dropped. When said man handed him a thick folder, Warrick's entire world went on pause. 

Tina had filed for divorce.

* * *

Horace Kent ran for all he was worth. He'd gone to college on his running ability...and he was no longer in prime condition, but he hadn't made All American in his sophomore year because he was pretty. No, Horace had worked his way through the University of Nebraska with lots of studying and by running the pigskin into the end zone. Right now, he prayed those same legs that had won so many football games didn't fail him. He'd grown up right here in Vegas, he understood the desert, he knew it's dangers. As he ran into the blinding desert day, though, he knew that the most horrible danger was behind him, perusing him like a rabid dog after it's prey. 

His wife was pregnant, he had just been promoted, he was a deacon in his church, he donated money to the Negro College Fund, he volunteered his time as a foster parent. He was a good man, he didn't deserve this. Not this!

He could hear the roaring of an engine coming up behind him and he pushed himself harder, sprinting far faster then he ever had on the field. He wanted to live!

Human legs, however, give out much quicker then a truck and Horace lost the most important race of his life...the one for his life. He struggled, he threw punches and kicks, he even forgot everything his father had taught him about honor and bit, scratched and aimed at the nads. One swift hit to the temple, though, toppled the black man. He was drug back to the shed...to die.

Horace came back to and panicked. His hands were cuffed to a pipe, he couldn't do anything with them...What was worse though, was the mask on his face...the huge tank that the tube lead to wasn't labeled oxygen... Ne...Though it had been years since his last Chemistry class, he recognized that symbol...His last conscious thoughts before he started slipping into deadly unconsciousness was that his foster kid, Joel, had just taken a field trip to the Neon sign museum not two weeks before...

Horace died at noon in the blistering heat that only could be found in a metal shed in the middle of a desert in the summer. It was, when compared to the chase that had preceded it, a rather peaceful death.

Author's Note: I've been told, by the wonderful HoneyLynx86, that along with my abysmal spelling and general slaughtering of the English language, my dialogue flow is hard to understand... It's not the first time I've been told...and I'm working on it, honestly I am. So I guess it's time I swallow my pride...and put out a plea... If there is anyone willing to beta-read for me, please send me an email, smoke signal, telepathic message...anything!

Now, while I'm blabbing, I'd like to go ahead and throw out some thanks and such. To those who have reviewed thus far: HoneyLynx86, icklebitodd, and Missy Holland, you guys rock! Lovely reviews such as these are what drives me to get up in the morning...Okay, so not wanting to lose my job makes me get up in the morning, but hey, reviews make my morning happier.

And thanks go out to everyone who's read so far too...even if you haven't reviewed, the numbers say that someone out there likes the tale well enough to keep coming back for more...so this is a mid-story thanks to everyone, I guess...I'm done now...


	9. Chapter VIII: All Bets Are Off

_Chapter VIII_

_All Bets Are Off_

He had known it was bad...but now it sat before him...right there in black and white. His marriage was over. Irreconcilable differences...was that what he and Tina had? Warrick stared at the gold band on the third finger of his left hand. It was such a simple thing...though the whole marriage had been simple, hadn't it? A drive-through wedding.

Looking back now, he saw it for what it was. It had been a knee-jerk reaction to Nick's brush with death. He'd been scared...and needed to confirm that he was still living...that life went on. Did he love Tina? Yes, there was no doubt about it...but did he love her enough? That was the question, wasn't it? He had saw her with that VIP Host and he had immediately jumped to a conclusion...the wrong one. He hadn't trusted her. Marriage couldn't just be about love, it was about trust and companionship. He hadn't trusted her enough...and as for companionship...their schedules had kept them apart more often then not...love just hadn't been enough, it seemed.

He stood in the lobby of the Lucky Dragon Casino, where everything had come to a head. All around him people were gambling their lives away, one pull of the handle, one roll of the dice, one intervention of fate at a time. His hands began to sweat, and the old pull of his compulsions, of his addictions assaulted him. His eyes found the Blackjack tables and he licked his lips.

His marriage was over, he had a helluva case and insomnia to top it all off...If he was going to fall off the wagon, he might as well do it now...he didn't have all that much further 'till rock bottom anyway. He swaggered over to the nearest table and changed a crisp hundred dollar bill into chips and sat down. He'd tried to be a good husband, a good friend, a good CSI...he'd been a good boy, now...now all bets were off.


	10. Chapter IX: Drowning Sorrows

_Chapter IX_

_Drowning Sorrows_

The ringing of her cell phone woke Sara from a sound sleep. As rare as that was, she was a little miffed to be dragged from it...Not that her nap had lasted all that long, she'd spent a good chunk of the morning with Sofia. First breakfast, then they had went and seen Jim, he looked better already, and then they'd ended up having a beer too. She liked spending time with the blonde detective...and she sure beat the company of her police scanner and forensics journal. She grabbed at the offending phone and squinted at the ID. It was Warrick. She flipped it open, "Yeah?" After a moment of listening, she sat up in bed. "I'm on my way."

* * *

She found him in the Lucky Dragon Casino's bar. By one of his hands was a thick file and by the other was a casino chip. Between his hands was a bottle of beer. He was well on his way to drowning his sorrows. She sat on the stool beside him. She looked up at the bartender, "Can I have some water, please?" She turned her attention to Warrick. "Hey."

* * *

When he'd found himself staring at the dealer, waiting for the first card to be thrown out, he knew that if he placed a bet, a casino bet, he'd lose everything he'd worked for over the past few years. He'd stared down at his cell phone. He'd been a few button pushes away from calling Nick...but he stopped. Instead he scrolled down to a name that he'd rarely called before...though he had a feeling that he would be changing that. He called Sara Sidle...it was ironic, really. The first time he'd met the brunette CSI, he'd been at a Blackjack table. It looked like they'd come full circle.

He didn't acknowledge her when she sat down. He didn't acknowledge her when she put in her order for water, he didn't acknowledge her greeting. He stared at this beer bottle and she waited patiently. That was Sara's way. Catherine would have pushed, Grissom would have started quoting some long dead philosopher, Nick would have started drinking with him. Sara let him form his own words, muddle his way through it. After a while, he did finally speak. "I was served with divorce papers today." For a moment, Sara was completely silent. A few weeks ago, Warrick would have laughed at himself, going to the lab's anti-social hermit for advice, he wished that it was possible for him to punch the Warrick of a few weeks ago in the face. "It's her loss, Warrick...but have you tried to talk to her about what happened?" He snorted into his drink. "Look above your head, what do you see?" Sara tilted her head back. "Security camera, they're all over the place, it's a casino." He nodded morosely, "When I was here...when Jim was shot. I was up in the security booth. I saw her on one of the screens with another man." He looked up and saw Sara looking at him, concern in her brown eyes. "Are you okay, Warrick?" He shook his head, "I called her...confronted her about it...Do you know who he was, Sara?" She shook her head. Warrick downed the rest of his drink, "A VIP Host, she was planning my birthday party. I called her a cheater and she was planning a party for me." He signaled the bartender for another drink and rested his head in his hands.

His eyes were closed so he didn't see Sara wave the bartender away, canceling the drink order. "Warrick, I don't know what to tell you...but...when Grissom called me the first time, to come here and run that investigation...well, I left a lot of things behind. San Fransisco was good for me...to me...Alex was good to me too, for a while. Two days before Grissom called me, I came home early, as a surprise. I found Alex in bed with another woman...I left two days later without going home." She sighed and swirled the water around her glass, "And I regret that every day...it's followed me. Don't give up on love, Warrick...She may have filed for divorce, but it's not final yet...don't make it final until you know for sure."

Warrick looked up and their eyes met. "I think you're right." She grinned, "Of course I am...now how much have you had to drink?" He shrugged one shoulder. "That much, huh? Well, let's get you out to my car. You can crash on my couch, sober up and pout about this until you've come to an answer." He stood, slightly unsteady on his feet. "I thought it was called brooding."

Sara lead him to her car, he was drunk enough to know that he could not drive...but still sober enough to ponder Sara's words. It was rare that Sara ever spoke of her time before Vegas. Sometimes it was as if her life had begun when Grissom had called her. He was honored that she trusted him enough to tell him about something like that...even if he probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow.

Author's Note: Yeah, I think I'm tired of this touchy-feely friendship discovery stuff too. Damn me and my need to develop my characters. Warrick is still staring down the barrel of divorce and Sara shared some of her past. I have always wondered what and who Sara left behind when she came to Vegas. So there's a tidbit for everyone. Now that we've firmly established the friendship...I can get back to one of the things I'm good at, killing people...wow that sounded less creepy in my head. Anyway, we're about to see the rest of the CSIs and theres going to be more action, less dialog, and another scene of Sara/Sofia goodness...hooray!


	11. Chapter X: Third Times the Charm

_Chapter X_

_Third Times the Charm_

Professor Helen Colter lead her Biology 239 class along the trail. "The ecology of the desert is, of course, very scant during the day, which is why we're here at night. Keep your eyes open for animal life, and of course, insects. This far from the city we may even find coyotes." Her eyes caught a lump in the dirt and sand. "Come this way, guys, it looks like we might have something over here." She knew this trail area well, she hiked it all the time and that lump was not a rock, but it was too big to be a coyote. When her flashlight beam fell on a human hand, she screamed.

* * *

Sofia watched the class of college statements talking to the uniforms. This was the third case she'd caught like this. The COD was not apparent, but she would bet a month's pay that the man had died of neon gas poisoning. The cadets and scent dogs were out and this case was being treated as a high priority case. Along with Sara and Warrick were Greg and Catherine. Sara had rolled her eyes at her as she passed, it didn't matter how many pairs of eyes there were, if the evidence wasn't there, it wasn't there. That, of course, didn't stop Catherine Willows from strutting around the crime scene like she owned it...of course in Catherine's little world, she probably did. Sofia shook her head, now was not the time to let old prejudices rear their head. Catherine was a CSI and Sofia was a detective. They had to work together to do their jobs, it didn't mean either of them had to like it. This time, the body was almost immediately identified.

His face had been all over the news. Horace Kent was a Vegas success story. He'd rose from a poor family to go on to play his way through college and he worked his way through Law School. He was a role model, especially for the minority groups of the city. If a poor black boy could make it, any one could. He had also just been promoted to the Narcotics Division ADA. This was a very high profile case, to be sure. She already had the sheriff and Narco breathing down her neck. It made her wish Jim was here.

Sofia wondered, vaguely, if this could be a copy-cat killer. There hadn't been all that much media coverage on the first two victims, but if someone wanted to knock off an ADA and get away with it, what better way to do it then try to include him in a serial's line up... It wouldn't be the first time it had been tried, and frankly that theory made much more sense then the idea that their killer just wantonly jumped around, killing anyone, no matter their gender or race.

* * *

Sara once again took molds of the tire tracks. They were faint, but she already recognized the familiar pattern. She looked around and did some quick calculations in her head, they were about one mile from where Wendell had been found, and about four from where Taylor had been found. As far as Sara could figure, there was no rhyme or reason to where the bodies were dumped. ADA Kent had a lot of defensive wounds on him, he had put up one hell of a fight. Sara didn't doubt that he had. She'd worked with the man a few times while he'd served with the Family Courts system. He had been a good man, a good lawyer. David had put his death at approximately ten hours ago, so two in the afternoon. The insect life that had already moved in showed that he, unlike the last two victims, had been left there for almost all of those hours. Sara frowned. It could be a copy cat, or the killer could be accelerating...or...she didn't know. She wasn't a Criminal Psychologist or a Profiler, she was a CSI and she only knew what the evidence told her.

* * *

Greg watched the others as they all worked. Catherine stalked around the site, burning shoe leather and getting a feel for the scene. She sketched it out, making note of the body position, hiking trail and tire tracks. Warrick was with David at the body. He, himself, was on perimeter and Sara was working with the cadets, running the search, occasionally flagging things that might be evidence, or jogging behind the scent dogs. The only one of them that was not bustling was Detective Curtis, Sofia. She was leaning against one of the SUVs, talking to herself. Some people might have thought she was lazy, but Greg knew that Sofia was working in her own quirky way.

This was, what appeared to be the third murder in a confusing string of unsolved cases. This was the first one he'd been on, but he was already hoping that the third time would be the charm.


	12. Chapter XI: Something We're Missing

_Chapter XI_

_Something We're Missing_

They stared at the case board. Now a third set of information was there. Sara sighed, "This is insane." Warrick nodded his agreement. Horace Kent had also died of neon gas poisoning and since they had not released that little tidbit, they were dealing with the real deal, not a copycat. They were dealing with a killer who didn't discriminate between race, age, sex...or anything. There was no pattern, no victim profile to look for. Warrick frowned, "I knew Horace...I mean he's the kid that every parent pointed to and said, 'Why can't you be more like him?'. Sara nodded, "The home town hero." Warrick shrugged, "I guess so...wait...wait, go back what did you say?" Sara blinked, "Hometown hero, why." Warrick stood. "Home town...he's a Vegas native too." Sara shrugged, "So?" Warrick looked at the board, "So were our other two victims. Maybe that's it. That could be the connection." Sara nodded and stood up, "He's targeting natives...people born and bred right here in Las Vegas, Clark County. The only problem is... there are roughly 1.7 million people in the city and surrounding area, seventy percent of Nevada's population." They both groaned. This did not narrow things down at all. 1.7 million potential victims. Sara frowned, "There has to be another connection. Something we're missing." Warrick looked at the three pictures. "I guess we're going to haul the family's in...before this psycho gets someone else.

* * *

Warrick and Catherine sat across the table from Bruce and Matilda Wendell. Both of them looked haggard, tired, completely lost. Bruce's tie was lose around his neck and his jaw was covered with stubble. Matilda's green eyes were red rimmed and listless and Bruce's jaw was so tight that they could see the muscles working under the skin.

"No. She didn't hang around any bad crowds, no drugs, no booze, no wild parties. My Meli was a good girl." The man's voice was tight and laden with sorrow. Catherine nodded her head, "I understand that you're upset, Mr. Wendell, we're just trying to find out everything we can. We've got an entire lab looking for the man that murdered your daughter...now is there anything that she's done in the last few weeks, anything different. We need to know, even if it was just switching to a new grocery store."

Both mother and father shook their heads.

Noah Robb was a walking advertisement for the National Guard. He was tall, dark, a chiseled chin and abs that would make Olympians jealous. He was also completely broken. A worn picture of Melody was between his hands, he stroked it, unable to let go of his now gone finance. "We were getting married this fall...she's already picked out all the colors and stuff..." He shook his head. "I just can't believe any one could want to hurt Meli..." Catherine patted the man on the shoulder, offering what little comfort she could. "We're very sorry for your loss." Both she and Warrick knew exactly how hollow those words sounded. "What we need you to tell us is had Melody done anything different, met anyone, gone anywhere unusual in the last few months... Did you go on any unique dates or outings...anything you can think of?" Noah stared at the wall. "The last thing we did, before I went off on maneuvers...we took my nephews Scottie and Rick out and around Vegas, my sister lives in Seattle so we showed them the town. The Pirates show at Treasure Island, The Bellagio Fountain, the uuh old sign museum...Tourist stuff you know." He shook his head, "When I got back from Maneuvers...we were planning a night out...catch a show, spend too much on a room...real nice." His voice broke and he looked at them... "You think...you think if I had been here...I could have saved her, I could have kept her safe...I always promised to keep her safe." A tear slid down his scruffy face and he stared down at the picture of the laughing, smiling, alive Meli. "I failed her."

Catherine looked over at Warrick, her blue eyes full of unshed tears. They watched the broken young man leave the room. Catherine flopped back against the back of her chair. "God what I wouldn't give for a love like that. Eddie and I were never like that. Not that kind of 'I would die to protect you' love. She sighed, "I don't think I'll ever have that kind of 'can't eat, can't sleep, devoted to the last breathe' kind of love...It's reserved for the young and un jaded."

She sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the movement pushed the lapels of her jacket back and pulled the fabric of her shirt tight against her chest. Warrick made himself look away from Catherine's unconscious sexual movement. Her words struck home with him. Had he and Tina had that kind of love? If he...died...would she mourn like that? He just didn't know... He did know that his traitorous hand wanted to reach up and wipe away the tears that spilled out of Catherine's sapphire blue eyes.

* * *

Nick and Greg sat across from Sylvia Taylor. She was a solidly built woman with a firmly placed scowl on her face. "Now none of you did anything when my Gene died but a high class nig-" Greg cut of the woman half way through her filthy utterance. "That's all we need from you, ma'am." She stood up, "You morons need to pull your heads out of your asses and find the piece of shit who killed my husband."

Anna Taylor was, in Greg's estimation, a good person in bad circumstances. One of her hands was protectively splayed over her distended stomach and the other was flat on the table. Her brown eyes were far older then her fifteen years, and with the child growing inside her, those eyes would only grow more weary. "It was always something with Dad, you know. One week he'd be at a factory, the next he'd bounce at some sleazy strip joint, the next he would plant himself on the couch and drink like a fish." She shrugged, "Mom has her job at the Sphere, house keeping, and I pound the ground as a server at the IHOP." She shook her head, "The last job he was fired from? He was only at it three days, he went in drunk...busted up some classic neon sign at a museum. It cost me three thousand dollars to pay for the repairs..." She ran her fingers through her short mouse brown hair. "I love my dad, but he was no nice guy...but would anyone really want to kill him?" She shook her head, "He was an ass, but he was barely even a blip on the radar around here. Vegas is full of losers...my dad was just another one of the blue collar schmucks."

Greg and Nick looked at each other, their notes were on the light side...in fact, they had hit another dead end.

* * *

Sara and Sofia were wearing kid's gloves. Anita Kent was devastated. Her husband had been with the DA's office, so she was practically one of their own and she was hurting. "You two knew Horace...he was a great man. He worked hard to get where he was...but he had time...time for the little things, you know. I mean he worked all day, putting criminals away...his job was important to him...but he still had time for his family. He chaperoned Joel's last field trip...he was thinking about coaching pee-wee football this fall...we were talking about baby names..." The woman burst into tears. Sofia looked to Sara and they both felt inadequate. They wanted to find Kent's killer, badly. For the crying Anita, for Joel, the boy who had acted like Kent was Superman, Batman and all of the Power Rangers rolled up into one man...for the unborn child that would never meet it's father.

Joel was in the lounge, destroying the high scores on whatever game it was that Warrick and Nick had in their "secret" Playstation that week. Sara sat on one side of the boy, and Sofia on the other. His young fingers adeptly manipulated the controls with all the skill and concentration of a NASA astronaut bringing a shuttle home. Sara smiled at him, "So you and Mr. Kent got along pretty well." The boy didn't take his eyes off the screen. It might have been a sign of indifference, had his deft fingers not stumbled over the buttons, causing him to lose a life. "Yeah...Mr. H was really cool...I'm gonna miss him a lot."

Sara recognized the strong front. Foster kids learned not to get attached to their care-givers, because when they invariably switched homes...it hurt. Joel had fallen in love with the Kents...and he was putting up a good fight to hide it. Sara knew all too well how the young boy felt.

"A lot of people are going to miss him. Joel, I want you to think really hard for us...did Mr. H do anything different in the last few weeks, anything at all? Can you remember the last time you went out somewhere with him? Even if it was to the grocery store, it's very important."

Sofia watched Sara comfort the boy and gently question him. The lab rumor mill had pegged Sara as "bad with kids"...Sofia had no idea how that rumor had gotten started, she was as good as gold with the little boy between them. There was real concern in her brown eyes and a note of understanding in her voice.

The young boy paused the game and turned to face Sara. "The last really cool thing we did together? He chaperoned my field trip... 'Nita was supposed to...but she said that she wouldn't be able to fit through the bus doors, cause she's as big as a house..." The boy stared at the floor that his toes could barely touch. "We went to this great place...The big sign museum. It had Aladdin's lamp and everything...Mr. H said they were relics...older then he was!"

Sara and Sofia sat in the lounge, quiet. Anita had come to collect to Joel, she held him close to her, as if he were the last rock in a thrashing sea. Sara closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her head on her hands and her elbows on her knees. She was weary. She wanted to catch this killer badly. Annoying enough, a line from a bad Sandra Bullock movie popped in her head, "The profile doesn't fit the profile." That hit the nail right on the head, didn't it?

She let out a little gasp when two strong hands came down on her shoulders. Sofia began to knead the ever present tension out of Sara's muscles. Sara let out a groan...which sounded more like a moan. Sofia's hands moved under the collar of Sara's shirt. The skin on skin contact did make Sara moan, it was an unmistakable sound. Sofia's fingertips danced at the base of Sara's neck, firm and warm. Sara almost jumped out of her skin when hot breathe whispered across her ear. "You're tense." Sara cracked open her eyes and leaned back, tilting her head up. "Yeah..." Sara and Sofia's faces were inches apart... Blue eyes met brown and something...electric passed between them. Then Sara's pager went off. The sound was as effective as a bucket of ice water. Sara found her voice, though it was much lower and huskier then she would have liked. "I guess the others are finished." Sofia nodded, "Guess so."

Author's Note: Aaww, no flirty fun for Greggo and Nicky... Wow these are some long chapters... The movie that Sara's mentally quoting is _Murder by Numbers_...which I obviously do not own...not even on DVD...I'm more of a_ Miss Congeniality_ girl myself.


	13. Chapter XII: Two Plus Two

_Chapter XII_

_Putting Two and Two Together...Doesn't Always Equal Four_

The team discarded the idea of meeting in the conference room... The conference room chairs were damn uncomfortable and the coffee machine was in the break room. So they all flocked to the break room. Catherine threw her notebook on the table. "I want this guy." The rest of them nodded in agreement. Greg threw himself onto the couch. "Well Taylor's wife, who by the way is not up for any personality awards, gave us Jack and Crap...and Jack left town some time ago."

Catherine wearily ran her fingers through her blonde hair. "Yeah, the Wendell family was torn up...so was the boyfriend...it's a damn shame."

Sara took a sip of coffee, heavy on the sugar, and leaned against the counter. "Tell me about it...Kent's foster son worshiped him...the kid thought he was the greatest guy in the world because he chaperoned a school trip out to the Neon Sign Museum."

Nick looked up, "The one off of Freemont?" Sara nodded, "Yeah and something called the 'Boneyard Tour'...why?" Nick flipped through his own notes. "Guess where Gene Taylor worked as a handy-man for three days?"

Catherine's eyebrows winged up... "And Melody Wendell and her finance took his nephews out there..." Warrick looked up, "I remember that place, I went there like twenty times as a kid, it's a cheap field trip...but other then schools...the only other people who go there are tourists...and all of our vics are locals." Sofia nodded, "Well, if it makes sense or not...it's the only lead we've got."

* * *

Sofia peered at the refurbished signs of Freemont Street. She lowered her dark aviator sun glasses a fraction and looked at Warrick. "Let me get this strait...people actually pay to see old Vegas signs?" He shook his head, "No the restored ones are free to view...the Bone Yard, the unrestored signs are the ones you have to pay to see." She shook her head, "That makes no sense at all." Warrick shrugged one shoulder, "It's Vegas." Sofia wondered if "It's Vegas" would ever stop being an acceptable excuse for some of the stuff she put up with. 

They went to the main office, where the gift shop was doing busy business to find out who was in charge. The air conditioning hit her and Sofia let out a sigh. She looked around, brochures and photos of old Vegas decorated the walls. "Right." They looked around, but the only employee they saw was an acne-afflicted teenager with bright pink hair and a nose ring. Small children ran around, followed by chaperones who were trying their best to keep smudged fingers off of clean glass. An old woman stood off to the side, gazing at the old photos nostalgically. She smiled at Warrick and Sofia. "Oh hello." Sofia inclined her head and Warrick gave a polite smile. The woman, though, was one of those old chatty grandmother types. "Are you two tourists?" Warrick shook his head, chuckling, "I was born and raised here." The woman caught sight of the gold ring on his finger, and looked at Sofia, whose arms were crossed. "Are you here with the children's group?" They shook their heads. The old woman smiled, "Well it's never too early to start thinking about little ones...and I don't care what any one says, you two make a lovely couple." They moved to let a janitor go around them, and Sofia sputtered out a jumbled, "We-just-work-together!" The old woman had the good grace to turn bright tomato red. "Oh, well, forgive a silly old woman...James Timothy you put that down!" A small freckled boy immediately put down a scale model of the colorful Excalibur castle. The woman smiled, "My grandson. I have to bring him here every time his parents bring him to see me. Bless him, he loves all the lights...but I hardly notice them anymore. I've lived here my entire life and it's all background." They moved again for the obviously grumpy janitor to pass them. Sofia looked at him, "Um, excuse me, I'm Detective Curtis with the LVPD, I need to speak with the manager of this establishment please." When she flashed her badge, the old woman's eyes went wide.

A few minutes later, the manager came out from whatever back office he'd been hiding in. Sofia had never been so happy to get away from a little old lady in her entire life. Though, since they went right into the hands of a crotchety old man... As they walked back through the tiny hallway that lead to the manager's, or curator as he preferred to referred to, office, she gave Warrick a look. "Let's pretend _that_ never happened." Despite himself, Warrick grinned, "Am I that bad, Detective?" Sofia hooked her glasses on her collar, "Let's just say you're _not_ my type, and leave it at that."

The manager...curator...whatever was less help then a deaf man at a rock and roll concert. Percival McQueen had missed the normal train a long time ago and was not all that interested in catching up with the group. His small office was full of Vegas paraphernalia from the 1940s on. Sofia felt...creeped out. He wore a plaid sports coat that had come off the rack some time in the sixties and the man rolled his own cigarettes and lit them with old matches, the combination of sulfur and tobacco made Sofia's eyes water.

"Residents always look over the majesty that is Vegas. They pass by it everyday. Here at the Neon Museum, we strive to remind Vegas of it's glorious past and preserve it for future generations." The man took off his round spectacles and cleaned them. "Now the names you mentioned aren't familiar, nor are the faces...but I will show them to our tour guides..." Their conversations was interrupted by the janitor. "Hey, Mr. McQueen..." The man scowled, "Allen, you know better then to interrupt me when I have guests." The janitor shrugged his thin shoulders. "Sorry, but..." McQueen held up his hand, "Later, Allen." The man shut the door behind him. "Sorry, my son, Allen...I try me best with him."

They left with no leads, but both Warrick and Sofia had an eerie feeling...like the answer to all of their problems had just brushed past them...a sort of two ships in the night feeling.

Author's Note: I don't know why...but I had to put that in there...I couldn't help myself!

Yes, there is a real Vegas Neon Museum that displays old signs of Vegas. The refurbished ones are on permanent display on Freemont Street and the ones that have, for whatever reason, not been repaired and restored sit on a seven acre lot, called the Boneyard. All of that information is very real. The organization is a member of the Allied Arts and the a couple of Nevada Historical Societies. Obviously that is the last bit of real information I used. I have never been there, I do not own the museum or any of it's subsidiaries or names. All characters used in connection with the Museum are fictional and any similarities to existing or deceased (or other fictional) persons is completely coincidental and no harm is meant.


	14. Chapter XIII: Taken

_Chapter XIII_

_Taken_

Author's Note: Usually I sit at my computer and type everything out in one long sitting...This chapter along with the next few, though, were written out before hand...while riding the bus home from work...and I now know why I use the computer...cause my handwriting sucks.

Elizabeth Monroe was seventy-two years old and as healthy as a horse, thank you very much. She'd lived every one of her years in Las Vegas and would die in the same. Her children, bless them, had tried to convince her to move closer to one of them, but New York was too cold and Collins, Indiana sounded far too dull for her tastes. No, she was content to stay in Vegas, her days filled with little projects and piano lessons...and occasional splurges at the nickel slots.

It was full night when she finished puttering around her sewing room. She went to the kitchen and opened a can of tuna. She hummed an old tune and opened the door. "Simon! Here kitty-kitty-kitty!" She walked out into her small front yard. The neighborhood, while not the best in the city, was nice. Young couples could push their strollers along the well-kept sidewalks without fear. The youngsters were playing a game of pick-up roller hockey in the couldesack's dead end circle. The teenagers clattered around, shouting to each other under the glow of the security lights. One of the girls looked up, "Hey Mrs. Monroe!" Elizabeth smiled at the pad-wearing, stick wielding roller-blader. "Why hello Yvonne! Have you seen Simon?" The girl paused, "No, sorry!" Then something happened and the girl rolled off at top speed, ramming by young Randy Mitchell to get to the ball...or puck or whatever it was they were aiming for. Elizabeth watched the game for a bit longer then turned and started looking for her missing cat again. "SIMON, DINNER!" She heard a clatter around the back of the house. "Simon if you're in the garbage I'll tan your kitty hide!"

She made her way around the house into the darkness of the backyard. "Simon!" If her husband were still alive, she was sure that the light in the back would be lighting her way, but Chester had gone to Jesus two years before...so she squinted into the shadows, looking for her mischievous tabby cat. "Simon!"

She didn't even get to scream when the large hand clamped down on her wrist, because another came over her mouth. She twisted and fought, but the man who held her was young, strong and relentless. She felt a sharp pain in her wrist and tears sprang to her eyes. He pulled her through the maze of the interconnected yards. She freed one of her arthritis-ridden hands up and clawed at her capturers face. she felt his skin rip and blood well under her well kept nails. He grunted, "You old bitch." He struck her hard across the face...the last thing she saw before giving into the complete blackness of unconsciousness were her neighbor's ugly lawn gnomes.

Simon the cat sat on the porch, meowing...He didn't understand where his owner had gone.

Elizabeth awoke stiff, and hot. She blinked, confused, this was not her home...where was she? Then it all returned to her: Simon, the man, darkness, the pain. She tried to sit up, but could not. Her feet were tied together with a thick hunk of rope...so were her hands. The pain in those was the worst. Her wrist screamed, she realized that it had to be broken. She looked around, hoping to find something that might be able to free her. There was glass in the corner and she tried to move closer to them. A voice cut through the silence and stopped her. "I wouldn't do that, Grandmother." She looked up...The speaker was no grandchild of hers...In a sudden flash of morbid insight, she knew...she knew that she was going to die...that this man was going to kill her. A tear slid down her weathered cheek. He bent down to wipe it away and she jerked her head to the side, she didn't want this...filth to touch her. He did anyway, wiping the tear off of her cheek. Another one slid out to replace it. "Don't cry, Grandmother, I'm not going to hurt you..." He reached over and took something from the rickety metal table. It was a hospital mask, one that was supposed to give oxygen to patients...As he put it over her head, she fought...it was not oxygen coming through the tubes...it was something else...something that would most assuredly kill her. He smiled down at her. "You may have forgotten Vegas, Grandmother, but Vegas will never forget you. You'll be an icon, like the strip itself, you will glow...never forgotten...never forgotten."

Her lungs began to burn and she began to thrash her small body, cursing osteoporosis and old age... A sharp pain cut through her chest, worst then any heartburn...she knew what it was, her fuzzy brain supplied the name, heart attack. She jerked and thrashed, then she lay still...as the world went gray she saw Chester, as young and vital as the day they'd gotten married. He was holding a hand out to her. She took it. Elizabeth Monroe died at ten o'clock on a Wednesday morning.

Author's Note: You know that nice old lady who always baked cookies for everyone on your block? Yeah, he just killed her. He's probably the worst "villain" I've ever written...and he's not done yet.


	15. Chapter XIV: Calm Before The Storm

_Chapter XIV_

_The Calm Before the Storm_

He finally went home. Warrick went home for the first time since that fateful phone call. His key still opened the door...that was something at least. The inside of what was once his home was dark and empty. It looked like Tina hadn't been home, either. He went to their bedroom. He was instantly struck with many beautiful memories of carnal pleasure and whispered promises of devotion. The other side of the coin was there too, though. Long days and nights spent apart from each other...work schedules that always left the bed half empty. He opened the closet door and was saddened to find that it too was half empty. Only his clothes hung there...on the left side of the closet. He sighed once more and scrubbed his hands over his unshaven face.

He began removing his clothes, he couldn't live here...not in the empty shell of what had once been his home. Slacks, shirts, jackets, he removed each article and threw the clothes in a duffel bag. In the dim light of the single bedside lamp he'd switched on, his wedding band winked at him, reminding him of his failure.

* * *

Catherine rolled over and sighed. Her ceiling had exactly twenty-seven cracks in it. She'd stopped counting sheep years ago, afraid that she would develop some kind of strange fetish. She threw an arm over her eyes and sighed once more.

Insomnia drew her from her bed and to her feet. She wandered her home. Lindsey was in school, but the messy bedroom was a testament to her teenage presence.

The washing machine thumped away in the laundry room and Catherine wandered into her living room. she sat on the couch and let out yet another sigh. Her eyes scanned the room and stopped on one of the shelves. There, prominently displayed beside Lindsey's last school portrait was the picture snapped at the lab's last Christmas party. Grinning at her from the picture was Warrick. They stood close to one another, his arm around her shoulders. The others were there too, Grissom, Nick, even Sara, but Warrick held her gaze. The married Warrick Brown was her obsession, and had been for years. Thinking about him would not cure her insomnia...or her sore heart.

* * *

Sofia slammed the clip into her Glock and pulled the chamber back, loading her first bullet. She adjusted the course required safety glasses and pulled the ear protection on, muffling all sound. All that remained in her world was the solid, familiar weight of her gun and the paper target ten yards in front of her. The muscles of her arm bunched and she pulled the trigger. The recoil of the pistol in her hands was expected, welcomed, comforting even. The repetitive routine of adjusting her aim and firing cleared her mind. Emptied her thoughts of all pain, fear and anger. The case, Jim's shooting, her growing attraction to a certain brunette, all of it ceased to matter...All that was important was the herself, the target and the bullets that flew between them.

* * *

Jim Brass looked up from his unappealing lunch to find Sara Sidle standing in his door way. "Hey kiddo." She held up a bag from his favorite deli and smiled, "I'm not interrupting, am I?" He smiled and shook his head. She came over and sat in the chair by his bed. He had not been short of visitors since he'd come to the hospital, Gil, Sara and Sophie were among his most frequent visitors. Now he was never one to send away a beautiful woman, especially one of his favorite girls...but Sara was tired, he could see it in her eyes, in her stride. "Thought I might come and see how they're treating you." He smiled and moved his various IV tubes around, "I'm all right, tired of the hospital, but the doctors won't send me home yet." He shifted around in his bed and winced a little as his chest muscles tightened. She removed the tray of "healthy food" and opened the paper bag to reveal a hearty roast beef sandwich and greasy fries...his favorite. "The nurses are gonna kill you, ya know." Sara grinned, "Yeah, well, at least I'm in the right place." He chuckled and took a big bite of the sandwich. When he'd chewed and swallowed, he looked around, "So where's Sofia today?" He expected the shrug Sara gave, but not the slight blush and little smile. "She had better things to do the come see a grumpy old man." Jim let out another chuckle. "So what's your excuse?" Sara only smiled, "I happen to like grumpy old police Capitans." 


	16. Chapter XV: Race to the Scene

_Chapter XV_

_Racing to the Scene_

All night they waited, in fear and anticipation. The killer was accelerating, killing faster then before, losing control...and all they could do was wait for the next victim to be found. It was infuriating, and slow...it was a maddening test of patience and skill.

Sara poured over the evidence,trying to get it to reveal something...that little something that could break the case...that would give them a lead... The evidence, however, was silent, it gave her no ideas, no leads to follow.

The call came at seven in the morning. Increased helicopter patrols of the desert had revealed a body only half a mile away from where Taylor's had been found.

* * *

Catherine chewed her lip. The case of the year...versus her daughter. It was not the first time she'd had to chose between work and her personal life...she didn't like it...not one bit. It wasn't a choice she was supposed to have to make, but here she was again, making it...again.

Sara saw her standing there, in the hall, staring down at the cellphone in her hand. Sara checked her watch, it was ten after seven...Catherine should have left at least half an hour before. She stepped right in front of the other woman. "Hey Catherine." The other woman looked up.

* * *

Sara stood right in her path. "What?" She didn't bother to hide her annoyance. Sara didn't have a child at home...didn't have a life at all. They couldn't all be workaholics. "Don't you have to take Lindsey to school? If you go now, I bet you can just make it." Catherine didn't know how Sara knew when Lindsey was due at school, and wouldn't wonder about it until later. "Did I ask for your input, Sidle?" Sara blinked, "I'm just trying to help, Catherine." Catherine's blue eyes narrowed. "You are the last person I would ask for help with my daughter." Though Sara's face was covered in shadows, Catherine saw the wince cross her face...and the realization came along with a shot of guilt and horror...she'd hurt Sara...again.

Catherine instantly regretted her words. "Sara...I..." Sara held up a hand and turned her back...walking away. Sara's voice was steely as it floated back to her. "Forget I said anything."

Catherine stood in the hallway, mouth agape. "Shit."

* * *

Some people ran through their problems, others let out a cathartic scream...Sara Sidle worked. She threw herself into cases, she haunted the labs, chasing leads until the case was closed, she collapsed from exhaustion or she was calm again, whichever came first. At the moment, she could not bury herself in evidence...so she fell back on an old habit. As soon as she passed the city limits and hit the open desert, she pushed the Tahoe's accelerator to the floor. The SUV bucked forwards, breaking the speed limits, and Sara gripped the wheel...The speed and power of the machine she controlled roared through her, adrenaline replacing her rage. It momentarily took her back to her senior year of high school when she'd ripped around the scenic curves of California's most famous stretch of road, Highway 1 or the Pacific Coast Highway, with little regard for law or safety...in a rickety, rusty death trap of a used car. Times were different now, she was in an air conditioned SUV in the middle of the Nevada desert, miles away from the Ocean that she'd grown up by...but the effect was still the same, by the time she saw blue lights she was calm, ready to work again.

* * *

Sofia looked up from the body. A black blur kicking up dust and dirt was speeding toward them. Sofia stared at it, shielding her eyes against the sun. "Maniac! They've got to be doing a hundred." Greg looked up from the body as well. "Hey Warrick, Sara's here!" Sure enough, the SUV was slowing down and coming to a stop. Sofia blinked, "Is she insane?" Greg dusted grit off of his pants, "Nope, she's just pissed. Her and Catherine probably went at it again." Sofia raised one brow..."Okay." Both she and Warrick were scowling.

* * *

Warrick looked up from the fibers he was collecting. Sara stepped out of her SUV, looking completely calm and collected...in other words, her game-face was on. She went around and grabbed her kit from the back seat. She ducked under the tape and came towards them. "Tell me something good, Warrick." He lowered his sunglasses a fraction. "Well, NASCAR called for you." She rolled her eyes. "About the case." Her voice was dripping sarcasm, but a small grin worked it's way to her face.

He sighed, "Vic is a Caucasian female, approximately seventy years of age. No apparent COD, but we've got defensive bruisings and ligature marks." They walked across the scene together, "No tire tracks this time, but boot prints look to be a match, we've got fibers and hairs...could be the same guy...he's getting sloppy." Sara squinted at the scene in the mid morning sun. "Good. Maybe we will finally be able to get this guy..."

Author's Note: Was that all really necessary? Yeah...Important character development stuff...Though I would like to say now, the fast driving thing...that's how I've totaled two cars and blew the engine on one...So, uh don't try that at home...cause car wrecks suck...they really really do.


	17. Chapter XVI: WHAT!

_Chapter XVI_

_WHAT!_

Sara was analyzing the fibers while Warrick talked to Hodges about the trace evidence they'd recovered at the scene. If one looked in the dictionary for misplaced arrogance, David Hodges' picture was right there, in the dictionary. If you cross-referenced, he'd also be under utterly annoying and petty...but the man knew his stuff. "The sample you brought me was Drum rolling tobacco. Someone was rolling their own cigarettes out there." Warrick nodded, "I wonder how many people use Drum in the city..."

* * *

His pager went off. He headed to the lay out room. The faces of the four victims were there, pale and very dead. He had the reports in his hand. Sofia was staring at the board, mumbling to herself, Greg looked very uncomfortable...but if if Warrick was in the same position, between two seething women who looked like they were about to kill each other, he wouldn't look too happy either. "Hodges analyzed that trace we found. Drum tobacco, roll your own cigarettes." Sara nodded, "Fibers are polyester, a little aged, dyed sienna brown."

* * *

Sofia looked from Melody Wendell to Gene Taylor and then Horace Kent, finally the latest victim. Elizabeth Monroe, a widow who'd been the pillar of the First Vegas Baptist Church...She'd been the stand-in Grandmother for her entire neighborhood... She hadn't deserved to die.. Sofia tilted her head, something was nagging at her...Something... "Oh. My. God." She whirled around. "Warrick, Elizabeth Monroe...we were right there and we didn't see it." Greg blinked. "Uuum...is that supposed to make sense?" Warrick shrugged, he wasn't quite sure what Sofia was getting at either. The detective ran her hand through her hair. "She's that old woman, from the gift shop, the one who thought we were married!" 

Catherine and Sara's mutual "WHAT!" echoed down the halls. Greg, seeing their shocked faces, wished he had a camera...he'd have to settle for laughter. He looked at Warrick and Sofia, both were blushing. "You two married..." Greg stopped talking because he was laughing to hard. Sara and Catherine looked from Sofia to Warrick. Sofia rubbed the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. "Anyway..."

She started to pace. "After that we went in and saw the curator..." Now she wasn't really talking to them at all. Sofia was in her own little crime-solving world, she just happened to be speaking aloud. "The curator who wears a hideous polyester jacket and smokes his own home-rolled smokes." She looked at the CSIs, "That's our suspect." She checked her watch, "And I know an ADA who would love to get a warrant for me...a good friend of Horace Kent."

* * *

Sara nodded, "Greg and I will head out to the Freemont Street Office, if you can get a warrant for their files, especially neon supplies...and for his house..." Sofia was already half way out the door. "We'll have a warrant for his baby pictures when I'm done." 

The CSIs watched Sofia swagger out towards the door, more then one set of eyes followed the seductive sway of her hips.

Catherine looked at Sara and Warrick, they were looking down at a file together. His hand was resting on her shoulder...

When had they gotten so close?

"Hey Sara." Greg's voice cut through Catherine's thoughts. "I'm going to go check out suspect by the database, page me when you're ready to leave."

Sara nodded absently, then bent back down to what she was examining. She was like a blood-hound on the hunt, perfectly focused and utterly determined to close the case.

Author's Note: That was fun...Jealousy much? I meant to have these chapters up earlier...but I was busy...drinking...


	18. Chapter XVII: One Step Forward

_Chapter XVII_

_One Step Forward..._

The warrants went through and Sofia met Sara and Greg at the tiny gift-shop and office. Suffice to say that Mr. McQueen was not happy with the turn of events. "This is utterly ridiculous. You suspect someone here of killing these people?" Sara looked at him. "Sir, I'll need your jacket, please." He recoiled as if physically hurt. "I beg your pardon?" Sara didn't budge, "Your jacket, and our people will need access to your home. You can submit or we can have a warrant ready within the hour." He blinked owlishly, shock clear on his face. "You think _I_ killed those people!"

Sofia handled the question well, "We're just investigating now...I suggest you cooperate."

* * *

Sara was inspecting the small outbuilding behind the main gift shop. Her flashlight revealed a few tools, but no tanks of neon. Sara frowned. A noise at the door made her spin around. The janitor stood there. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you...I just needed a mop." She nodded, "Yeah." She moved aside. "Allot of signs out here to take care of...you must be very skilled." The man, his shirt said Allen, shrugged, "I like the signs...my Mom always told me that they were the Angels of Vegas." Sara nodded, "That's a beautiful thing to say." The janitor nodded, "It is, isn't it..." He whistled a little tune as he went out. "Hope you find what you're looking for." He turned back and smiled at her, then he left.

Despite the near unbearable heat of the desert summer, Sara shivered...and was very glad the man had left.

* * *

Sofia frowned at Percival McQueen. He'd lawyered up very quickly and all his stuffed shirt of a lawyer said was, "You don't have to answer that." Catherine leaned on the table, "He needs to answer for himself. We have four dead people and evidence that points to you, Mr. McQueen." The lawyer scowled, "I've seen your so called evidence and until you get more, we're leaving." Catherine glared at him. "We have your records, your clothes, we'll find the evidence and your client will find himself on the wrong end of the needle."

* * *

Sara frowned at the records, "Damn. They keep all the neon out at the other site, the uh Boneyard." Warrick grinned, "Well I guess I'll go out there and look at some tanks." Sara nodded, "Sofia and Catherine are back at the office, getting more records...so make sure to call a uniform." Warrick grinned, "Yes, mother." Sara stuck out her tongue at him. "Smart ass."

* * *

Catherine and Sofia met at the Freemont Street offices. They stood there, watching the tourists looking at the signs of Old Vegas. Sofia shook her head, "I still don't get it, you know...the whole sign thing...they're just...signs...big flashing signs." Catherine shrugged, "I've lived her for a long time, but I still remember my first time coming down the strip." Sofia shrugged, "Sure, the first time...but it all fades into one big glow after a while..." 


	19. Chapter XVIII: Miscalculation

_Chapter XVIII_

_Miscalculation_

Warrick looked around the quiet area. He didn't know where his uniform was...It was getting late and he needed the serial numbers off of the neon tanks. No one was around this secondary sight...it was open by appointment only. Tonight's action was all down on Freemont Street.

"Hello? Anyone here? I'm from the Crime Lab..." His voice echoed around, bouncing off of the neon idols of old Vegas. His only answer was the slight whistle of the dry desert breeze and the creaking of old metal and glass. The shadows cast by the evening twilight made the signs and figures cast eerie shadows...making what was supposed to be a cheerful maze of history seem ominous and yes, even dangerous. Warrick was pretty sure he'd seen this particular movie...and the cop had died.

He shook his head, to clear it of morbid thoughts and clicked on his flashlight. McQueen was no where around...no one was around. The beam of his flashlight moved around in a slow, steady arc, taking everything in. In the fading light, Warrick could see the edge of the desert give off it's final heat waves of the day... He frowned, how close was "The Boneyard" to the dump sites they'd found the vics at? He wasn't sure...but it couldn't have been too far...an easy drive, to be sure. His beam fell on an old beat up, dusty truck...an easy drive especially with a 4x4.

A hand fell on his shoulder and Warrick jumped, drew his gun, threw off the gun's safety in one quick movement. A scruffy man stared at him, "You're trespassing." The man wore a work shirt with his name, Allen, stitched on them. Warrick let out a breathe and lowered his gun. "Jeez, man, you scared the hell out of me. I'm Warrick Brown with the Las Vegas Crime Lab..."

* * *

Officer Adam Murphy was not considered a handsome man. That was okay, though, you didn't have to be handsome when you were both strong and carried a gun. Adam had served his country as a Marine and now he served Clark County as a police officer. He was on his way out to baby sit one of the Geek Squad when a a red motorcycle flew by him, headed back to the city...towards the strip...

Adam pulled his emergency break and pulled his powerful black and white patrol car into a perfectly executed 180. The CSI would be fine...A chase was much more his style...

* * *

The gift shop at the Freemont Neon Sign Museum's gift shop was doing sluggishly slow business. Catherine and Sofia looked around and immediately zeroed in on a bored looking bottle blonde behind the counter. She looked up at them. "Can I help you?" Sofia flashed her badge. "I'm Detective Curtis, LVPD and this is Cathie's Willows from the Crime Lab, we're here to see Mr. McQueen." The woman, her name tag read Lila, blinked owlishly, "Is this about the investigation?" They nodded and followed her through the small hallway that lead to McQueen's office. Lila, who wasn't as dumb as she looked, read the warrant. "Well, I can unlock the office for you, but you won't find what you're looking for... All the neon is kept out at the Boneyard, so are all the repair invoices. I mean, the only person who even understands the neon stuff is Allan...Mr. McQueen's son...McQueen, for all his talk, wouldn't know which way to turn a neon valve."

Catherine looked at Sofia, blue eyes met blue and a terrifying realization passed between them.

'We have the wrong guy'

* * *

Sara sighed and looked at the records she'd been given to look over. Yes, it was evidence...but she'd rather have DNA results, fiber analysis...real physical evidence...not paperwork. The lab techs were going as fast as they could, though. Doc Robbins had handed over the autopsy report. Elizabeth Monroe had not died of neon poisoning, but of a heart attack, brought on, obviously, by her ordeal. It was still murder and she wanted McQueen to go down for it.

She shook her head and sighed. It was strange, though, that he had left the first three scenes nearly spotless and the fourth scene...well, the fourth scene had been a treasure trove of evidence.

She's run McQueen through the system and found nothing. She wasn't surprised...he just didn't look like a cold-blooded killer...He kind of reminded her of one of her old professors from college...a dusty old professor of European History. Looks, however, could be deceiving. She sighed and took a drink of her rapidly cooling coffee.

Her eyes drifted back to the huge stack of files. All the neon deliveries had been signed by Allen McQueen...not Percival McQueen. That got her thinking...She typed in McQueen, Allen. Sure enough, he had a record, his prints were on file...but nothing was listed. "So it's a juvenile record..." She grabbed her phone off of her hip and scrolled through the numbers. With an investigation this big, unlocking a juvenile record should be no problem...it wouldn't be admisable in court, but...she needed to see it.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and within fifteen minutes, and a called-in favor, she was staring at what could have doubled for a serial killer's resume. Fist fights, animal abuse...assault with a deadly weapon.

Sara's pager went off...it was Wendy from DNA... Urgency hurried Sara's stride along. Wendy looked up at her. "Sara, I got those epis from the old woman's fingernails..." Sara took the page from the printer and read it for herself. "Oh No." Wendy nodded, "It's not your guy, but it does have seven alleles in common with McQueen." Sara felt the blood drain from her face. "Oh God." She pulled her cellphone off of her belt clip and dialed with shaky fingers.

"Answer, damn it. Answer. Warrick answer!" She was booted to his voice mail. She slammed the small phone shut. Wendy touched her arm. "What's going on?" Sara looked up, fear already playing havoc on her senses. "We had the wrong guy."

She was already half way to her Tahoe when she thought to call Sofia.

Sofia didn't even answer with a greeting, not even her name, "We have the wrong guy." Sara balanced her phone on her shoulder and started the ignition on her Tahoe. "I know. Allen McQueen, he's got a juvenile record that reads like a serial killer textbook." Sara felt her voice breaking. "And I sent Warrick out to the Boneyard." Sofia sucked in her breathe. "Catherine and I are already on out way..." Sara slammed her Tahoe into reverse and whipped out of her parking spot. "He's not answering and neither is the uniform that was supposed to be with him...I'll meet you there." She ended the call, threw the phone in the passenger seat and turned on her rarely used emergency lights. She laid rubber out of the parking lot, fear pushing her foot down to the floor.

* * *

Warrick smiled at the janitor, "I have a warrant to look at your neon supplies...and Mr. McQueen's office out here." The janitor motioned for Warrick to follow. "Dad doesn't have an office out here...Mr. McQueen only comes out here when the press is involved. He only drags himself out of his air conditioned office when there is publicity involved. He's forgotten about these pieces, they're not good enough for him...They're disappointments...he doesn't handle disappointment well.

To say Warrick was getting a bad vibe from Allen McQueen was quite possibly the understatement of the century...the needle of his creepy meter had buried itself in the red.

"I see. Well, I still need to see the neon tanks and any paraphernalia that would be used to repair the signs." Allan nodded and Warrick looked the man over, from the top of his balding head to the tips of his dusty work boots...

The realization his Warrick almost as hard as the shovel Allan wielded...Warrick's knees hit the ground and his last thought echoed in his mind like a broken record...

'We had the wrong guy.'

Author's Note: Didn't I warn you there would be charecter owchies? I wasn't talking about skinned knees, people.


	20. Chapter XIX: Just Breathe

_Chapter XIX_

_Just Breathe_

Warrick fought his way through the haze. He didn't open his eyes immediately, he lay there, taking stock of the situation, his hands and feet were bound...and there was something on his face. His eyes popped open, panic already setting in.

Allan McQueen was leaning against one of the cylinders. "Welcome back, Mr. Brown...or may I call you Warrick?"

Warrick realized that what was over his mouth was a hospital mask...one meant to help patients get oxygen. "Let me go." His voice was muffled by the mask over his mouth and nose. McQueen chuckled, it was a cold, disturbing sound. "You know it's people like you that really get me mad. You come and go every day and don't pay attention to the beauty around you." Warrick tried to free himself, but the cuffs held solid as the steel they were made of. "My mother once told me, when I was a very little boy, that the signs were like glowing angels, watching over Vegas...protecting it." McQueen stared off into the distance, "I miss my mother." He shrugged his shoulder. "That's not important, now. You see, you may have forgotten the Angels, Warrick Brown, but they haven't forgotten you. Vegas will never forget you, Warrick...I'm making you an Angel." Warrick would have liked to believe this man...the man who was calmly poised to take his life, was insane...but the calm, collected way he spoke...the gleam in his eye...he wasn't insane...he was a sadist of the worst breed...he was enjoying this.

He turned the knob and Warrick's eyes bulged wide open. He couldn't taste or smell the deadly gas that was now being pumped into him, but he feared it. He began to thrash around, trying to dislodge the mask from his face.

McQueen laughed, "Just breathe it in, Mr. Brown. Just breathe...It's really a nice death...quiet, peaceful even."

Warrick's mind spun. He didn't want to die. God, he didn't want to die.

His mind rushed, like a cliché, over his life.

_Going to church with his Grandmother_

_Running money as a teen_

_Graduating college_

_Winning his first big pot_

_The first case he'd closed by himself_

_The moment he'd found out that Holly Gribbs died_

_Nick's brush with death_

_Jim's close call_

_Sara's smile_

_Finally, his mind brought forth the calming vision of Catherine Willows...Soft blonde hair, fathomless blue eyes and she was calling to him... He reached for her._

Warrick's lungs began to burn and he lost track of time...it could have been five minutes...it could have been five hours. The gas was robbing him of his ability to keep delusion and hallucination separate from reality...He stopped struggling... He stopped fighting...

* * *

Allen McQueen watched, with rapt and dark attention as his latest Angel gave into his fate...It was beautiful. 


	21. Chapter XX: Race the Wind

_Chapter XX_

_Race the Wind_

Sofia had never really understood the term, "Moving Heaven and Earth"...now though, as she urged her sedan faster down the desert highway...well now she had a good idea. At the junction, she could see a black blur with blue lights merge into their lane. Beside her, Catherine let out a gasp... "Is that..." Sofia nodded grimly, "That's Sara." The Tahoe was traveling at dangerous speeds, flying along the asphalt as if it was in a race against the devil himself...and maybe...maybe they were. Sofia gripped the wheel... She hadn't been there for Jim...she wouldn't let Warrick down too.

* * *

Catherine indulged in something she rarely did...she prayed. She prayed for Warrick. Fear held her heart in it's icy grasp. Back up was coming...but she wasn't sure if they could make it... Warrick had went like a lamb to slaughter... She didn't know what she would do if they didn't make it time...she just didn't know. She fingered her upholstered gun... Her mind flashed back to a case years ago when Grissom had almost died...she'd killed then and she was sure she would kill again...to protect Warrick...to save him.

* * *

Sara's hands were in a death-grip on the Tahoe's steering wheel. The beast of a machine wasn't really meant for the speeds she was driving at...the vehicle shook...it would get her there no faster. 

If she had looked closer at the evidence...if she'd insisted on going with him...if she was a better CSI...Jim wouldn't be in the hospital and Warrick wouldn't be in danger. She could just see the sign for the museum in the distance and she drew in a breathe.

Warrick couldn't die...he just couldn't. She couldn't have his blood on her hands... not his too. She veered off onto the driveway. She could see a blue truck, Warrick's Denali and the closed gate that separated her from them. She didn't let up. She crashed through the gate, smashing it's metal arms wide in a shower of sparks. She barely felt it. She slammed both feet on the brake and felt the SUV skid to a shaky stop. She didn't even bother to turn it off. She jumped out of the SUV. "WARRICK!" Her headlights illuminated one thing...Warrick's flashlight...abandoned in the sand. "WARRICK!"

* * *

Sara crashed her Tahoe through the gate. Sofia's breathe caught in her chest and she swerved around Sara's car and stopped. She jumped out. Sara was already looking around...gun in hand. Sofia's hand went to her own gun. "Where the hell is the uniform?" Catherine stalked past her. "He better have a good fucking excuse!"

* * *

Sara was bent over the ground. "Fresh skid marks...a little blood...That bastard hit Warrick and drug him this way." Sofia grabbed Sara and jerked her back. "I go first." Sara's brown eyes flashed. "Sara I'm the officer. You go BEHIND me." Sara cocked her gun. "Hurry." They all three broke into a run, following the drag marks...procedure abandoned...fear and adrenaline took over. There was a shack on the back of the lot where the neon was kept and that was where the killer would be...where Warrick would be. 


	22. Chapter XXI: Too Late?

_Chapter XXI_

_Too Late?_

The shack was just ahead, Warrick had to be inside, the evidence pointed in that direction. Each woman ran, each woman knew fear.

* * *

Sofia kicked the door in and shouldered it fully open. She'd barely gotten the word "Freeze!" out of her mouth when the perp escaped through a large window. She turned on her heel and darted around the shed, She ran after him, commanding him to stop. Her heels kicking up desert dust behind her. The last thing that caught her eye was Sara falling to her knees beside Warrick...her hands moving to perform basic CPR.

* * *

Sofia had always ran through her problems...it was her way of dealing. Now, she rarely chased perps down...but she did so now, however, with a vengeance that she'd never felt before pumping through her. Her frustrations, her anger, her fear, her adrenaline sang through her blood, pushing her faster...her legs pumped like pistons...propelling her closer to the bastard who'd taken Warrick. 

She closed in on him, "STOP LVPD!" She was getting close, she could hear him wheezing. She didn't wait for him to stop. When she was in range, she lunged at him like an overzealous linebacker in the big game.

Sofia had never thought of herself as an aggressive person...but this man had killed people wantonly, just for...the sick sadistic pleasure of the act. He had taken Warrick...who, for all she knew, could be dead...And another, deeper knowledge chilled Sofia to the bone...it could have been Sara out here...by herself...in the clutches of a mad man...

They fell to the hard ground. His foot connected with her solar-plexus, knocking the wind out of her for a moment, but she recovered and hit him across the face...hard...with her gun. The satisfying crack of bones and cartilage breaking met her ears and she buried her knee in his crotch. Another hard hit on the face stopped his struggling and she turned him over onto his stomach, grinding the side of his face into the grit, grime and stone of the desert. In a practiced move she pulled her cuffs from the small of her back and slapped them on his wrists, ratcheting them them tight.

"Allan McQueen, you are under arrest for the murders of Melody Wendell, Gene Taylor, Horace Kent and Emma Monroe. For the kidnapping and attempted murder of Warrick Brown, for evading and resisting arrest, and assault on a police officer."

She stood and jerked him to his feet. Her gun was pointed at his head. "You have the right to remain silent..." She read him his Miranda rights as they marched back to the shack. She pushed her gun into his temple, "You better hope he survives, he's LVPD, you worthless sniveling piece of trash."

It was a little overboard, her higher brain was screaming at her to calm down...but by all rhyme and reason, she had the right to be a little bit pissed. First Jim, now Warrick. She hadn't been there for Jim Brass, but she had taken down Warrick's attacker...and he wasn't getting away. Anger burned through her as she marched him back towards the shack. She could see blue and red lights speeding towards them...back up had arrived...but was it too late?

* * *

Sofia held the gun steady, pointed at McQueen's head. Inside the shack she could hear Sara begging Warrick to breathe...and Catherine pleading for him to wake up. Sofia glared at the man who'd attakced Warrick Brown. He was unremarkable...His dirty blonde hair was receding, his thin frame sported an unsightly beer-gut...It was his eyes, though, that scared her... They were empty. "Do you believe in Angels, Detective?" She cocked her gun. "SHUT UP!" 

The first uniforms came towards her, their guns drawn. She glared at them. "It's about time! This is our perp." The EMTs rushed by her, "They're inside." She pushed past the uniforms, intent on shoving McQueen into the squad car herself. She opened the door and gave one last glare at the man, she twisted his arms just a bit and all but threw him inside the back of the car. A smirk came across her face when his head smacked agaisnt the inside edge of the door. "Oh yes, watch your head." She slammed the door hard and turned her back on the car and McQueen. It was over for him. They'd stopped him...but that nagging, acid churning question came back... was it too late?

Author's Note: Why is it that on every other cop show the strong femaledetective gets a chase scene or shoot out every other episode (coughOliviaBensoncough) but Sofia has precious few of them? Well, I solved that problem...On that train of thought: My, my, isn't Sofia just deliciously angry in this scene? We'll see more of that later...

Evil cliff-hanger...I have to amuse myself somehow.


	23. Chapter XXII: The Cavalry Arrives

_Chapter XXII_

_The Cavalry Arrives_

Sara ran in and fell to her knees beside Warrick. She ripped the mask off of his face. His eyes were closed, his mahogany skin was ashen gray. "Oh God, Warrick, don't you dare do this to me!" Training that she hadn't tapped into for years suddenly took over, and she began to move with an automatic grace. She tilted his head to the side, alarmed at the vomit that trickled from his mouth. When the airway was clear, she tilted his head back and began the chest-compressions that she prayed would save the man.

She could hear Catherine in the background, calling for an ambulance, but it was faint, like a radio that was out of tune. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noted that Sofia ran after McQueen. Her main focus...her only focus though, was Warrick...and saving his life.

She bent down and gave her first round of mouth to mouth. Warrick's lips were cold. A bead of sweat fell off of Sara's forehead. "Come on Warrick! Don't let this bastard win!" She kept pumping his chest, breathing air into his starved lungs...She would not give up on him.

* * *

Sara could feel panic eating her alive as she worked Warrick's lungs with her fists. "DAMN IT WARRICK!" She bent down to push air into his lungs again. He'd been down for five minutes already. Her mind tortured her with statistics... A body could only survive three minutes without air...A person's heart could only stop beating for so long without sustaining damage...the brain, when starved of oxygen began to die. She heard her voice crack when she screamed. "COME ON!" 

She could feel her composure slipping. Then the most beautiful sound in the world came. Warrick coughed. She looked down at him. "That's right, big breathes. There you go." She kept one of her hands on his chest, to make sure he didn't try to sit up and the other hand found his wrist and took his pulse. "You're okay now, Warrick, you're okay."

* * *

Catherine fell to her knees beside them and took one of Warrick's hands. She ran her fingers through his dark hair with the other, she was openly sobbing. Warrick gripped her hand. "Cath..." His voice was full of gravel and blood dribbled down the side of his mouth. Catherine wiped the blood away, "Shhh, don't talk, the EMTs are on their way, you just rest...It's gonna be okay...you're going to be okay."

* * *

After that, everything came in an adrenaline crash blur. The EMTs arrived and loaded Warrick into the ambulance. 

As they were stabilizing him...Sara was talking rapidly to them in some foreign medical jargoned tongue...Sofia watched them load McQueen into the car. Catherine came beside her. "Which one of you is Unit 45?" A pan-faced over muscled grunt turned. "That's me."

Catherine moved like a cobra, her manicured hand snapping out and grabbing the man's shirt. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE! WHAT YOU'RE TOO BIG AND BAD TO DO YOUR DAMN JOB! YOU HAD ONE THING TO DO. ONE! PROTECT HIM! THAT'S SO FUCKING SIMPLE A MONKEY WITH A GUN COULD HAVE DONE IT! WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?" She glared him down, her blue eyes alive with fire and brimstone...two icy pits of hell...and their full fury was pointed at the uniformed officer. Now Catherine's voice was low and deadly, she was done screaming. "When I get done with you, mall security won't have you...you won't even be able to be a crossing guard. You. Will. Never. Work. In. This. Town. Again." She punctuated each word with a sharp jab of her finger into his chest.

Catherineglared at him, the man was twice her size, but his face was paling. "He could have died because you didn't do your job." She pushed him back, he hit the metal of his car. Catherine gave him one last glare and turned on her heel and jumped into the ambulance rig. Her hand touched Sara's shoulder as the brunette exited. Sofia looked back at the uniform. "You deserve every bit of hell she raises..." She looked at his name tag, "Murphy...and don't think she's the only one who's going to be talking to the Sheriff." She watched him flinch and turned. "Get that piece of shit out of here...and the perp too."

* * *

The marked cars and ambulance left with blaring sirens and flashing lights. Sara and Sofia watched them leave. Standing in the doorway of the little shack of horrors, leaning on each other...Sofia put her arm around Sara and the emotionally drained woman leaned against her, grateful for the other woman's reassuring presence. 

Sara could still see him when she closed her eyes... cold, gray skin...lifeless eyes...he'd been moments away from death...Seconds away from being on Doc's table. Without warning her stomach lurched and she stumbled away from Sofia...Leaning against the rusty tin of the shack, Sara vomited up bile and coffee and dry-heaved until her stomach ached.

A part of her was ashamed... and a part of her was grateful...because standing behind her, holding her hair backand rubbing calming circles on her back was Sofia... Sofia was real...she was there and that was all that Sara needed for the moment...

When she was done, her stomach calmed. She straitened up and sheepishly wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. "Sorry." Sofia shook her head. "Don't worry about it...c'mon, we need to get to the hospital."

Author's Note: HE LIVES! Hey, look Ma, Catherine anger that's not pointed at Sara...for once. Actually this chapter and the last one were originally one large piece...but I broke it into two...more fun that way.


	24. Chapter XXIII: Recovery

_Chapter XXIII_

_Recovery_

He didn't want to wear the mask. They understood why, they really did...but he needed oxygen. He lay there, in one of the degrading hospital gowns...an IV drip in his arm...He had almost died...the idea that he'd all but kissed the phantom lover known as death scared him far more then he wanted to admit.

* * *

Warrick weakly looked up when his door opened. He expected Grissom...or Sara...He was wrong. Sitting there in a pair of obviously borrowed scrubs in a wheel chair was Jim Brass. The care-worn police Capitan looked at him. "You missed me this much?" Warrick tried to laugh, but could only wheeze. Jim wheeled closer to his bed. It had only been a little while ago and Jim had been the one that they had thought would die. The man was on a very long road to recovery, but he already looked much better now. "And I heard that you got to wake up to Catherine, Sara and Sofia...I got Grissom." Warrick felt a grin coming across his face, "Hey, I even got a kiss from Sara." Jim gave him a dubious look, "CPR doesn't count." A new voice came from the door. "She saved his life." Both Warrick and Jim turned, Tina Brown, Warrick's soon-to-be ex wife stood there. Jim looked from Warrick to the lady in the door. "I'll be leaving then, don't want to miss dinner, they serve a mean jello here." Jim wheeled himself out.

* * *

Warrick, looked at the woman he'd married. "Hey." She gave a weak smile, "Hey...the uh hospital called me." He nodded, "Well, thanks for coming to see me." He looked and yes, she too, still wore her wedding band. She picked up his chart and looked it over, but she was only killing time. Finally she looked up, her dark eyes filled with unshed tears. "You almost died." Warrick shrugged, but knew that the matter was much more serious then a simple jerk of his shoulder. She sighed and moved closer. She reached out and took his hand, her own hands were trembling. "I got that call and I couldn't breathe, Warrick...maybe...maybe I was wrong...I still love you, Warrick Brown...maybe we can try again..."

* * *

The entire night shift was once again gathered in the waiting room. Hadn't only been a heartbeats ago that they'd been here...waiting for news of Jim's fight for life? 

Catherine was still glassy-eyed with slight shock. Sara quietly sat by Sofia, who was filthy. Nick and Greg paced the room at different speeds. Finally, Catherine broke the taboo of silence. Remembering Sara's fast jargon filled explanation of Warrick's condition to the EMTs...she had to ask. "Where did you learn all that, Sara? The CPR and stuff."

Sara looked up sharply, almost as if she were surprised that someone had asked. Grissom turned to her too... everyone paused and looked at her. She only shrugged, "I did two years of Med School." Grissom blinked. "You never told me you wanted to be a doctor." Sara shrugged again and stared off past Grissom, back into her own past. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me...I really don't want to talk about it." The shutters came down over her eyes and her face went impassive, masking all feelings and emotions from everyone else. It was a skill that Sara was very adept at, hiding her feelings...hiding herself in plain sight. No one knew exactly what to make of Sara's confession, but the conversation was obviously one she would not continue.

* * *

Catherine walked down the hall. She could still see Warrick laying there, spread-eagle on the ground in that damn shack. So still...so pale, almost dead. She rounded the corner and made it to his door. Inside she saw him...and her. Tina, his wife, holding his hand, talking to him. Catherine turned, unable to watch anymore. She thought that maybe...she'd seen something in those amazing green eyes when they'd looked at her. He'd said that his marriage was over...and she thought that maybe she had a chance. She couldn't argue with the evidence though and it was screaming that Tina was still in his heart...she was still his wife...and that was something she could not...would not interfere with. A lump came to her throat and a too familiar pain cut through her heart. She'd missed her chance...again.

* * *

He thought he saw a flash of red-gold hair in his doorway and his heart momentarily lifted...it was not Catherine, though. It was only a trick of his eye. He lay there, with Tina holding his hand and he knew...he finally knew. His marriage was truly and completely over...if not on paper, then in his heart. When he'd been laying there, lungs starved for oxygen, consciousness slipping away, dying...His last thoughts had not been of his wife...but of the beautiful Catherine Willows and how much he wanted to see her one last time. He looked at Tina. She wanted to give it one last try, but he knew and was pretty sure that she did too...another try would be like beating a dead horse, cruel and pointless. He squeezed her hand one last time and then released it. "Tina...I think we both know that it's really over now." There were no tears, no regrets. Warrick took off his wedding band, bid his ex good bye and laid back against the bed, ready to sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

Author's Note: Wow...that's some heavy Cath-Warrick stuff...jeez I couldn't be any more blantent with it if I was running around with a giant sign...

All right, the Sara-wanted-to-be-a-doctor-thing. Yes, I have twitched the cannon around, just a smidge. Sara did two years or so of grad work at Berkley. I never really figured out why she quit half way through...doesn't seem very Sara-like...and no I don't go for 'Grissom's lecture was soo good that it altered Sara's entire life' idea either... There are many theories flying around...though I've not seen this one. If you stick around for the next two stories, you'll find out why it's relevent... This Dr. Sara thing is also a tip of my hat to Jorja Fox's ER charecter, Maggie Doyle (She was a surgeon doing her residency in and around the fourth season or so)


	25. Chapter XXIV: Fall Out

_Chapter XXIV_

_Fall Out_

Sofia ended up driving her home. Be it by coincidence or by design, Sara was grateful. She really didn't want to talk and Sofia let her be. Occasionally the woman reached out and gave her a reassuring touch. Sofia understood that Sara would talk when and how she wanted to. They stopped at a small diner and they had both proceeded to pick at their food...content to be quiet with each other... each basking in the comfort of the other's presence.

When they arrived at her apartment, Sofia insisted on walking her to the door. It was a thoughtful, very appreciated act. When they reached her door, Sara paused, keys in hand. She looked at Sofia. Her hand, without any kind of signal or instruction from her brain, went to the other woman's cheek and wiped the smear of dirt off of her skin. "Walking me to the door, you act like this is a first..." Sofia cut her off, "Third date, Sidle, it's our third date...of sorts...so I have no problem doing this." She moved her hand up to Sara's, holding it in place against her face. Her other hand moved around Sara's waist, pulling her closer. Their lips met in a chaste, sweet kiss. It was short and utterly breathe taking. When Sofia backed away, Sara's hand went to her lips. Sofia only smiled, "I'll see you around." She walked away, with that hypnotic sway of her hips holding Sara's eyes. Sara watched until she turned the corner of the hall and then she collapsed against the sturdy wood of her door. "Yeah."

* * *

Catherine went home from the hospital... She should be happy for Warrick... Who was she to begrudge a good man happiness? She opened the door to her home to find it empty...Lindsey was with a friend...It was silent at the Willow's home. There was no warm hello for Catherine, no lover waiting in the wings to comfort her in her hour of need... Tears burned behind her eyes but she held them back...She would not cry for what she could not have. She went to her liquor cabinet and poured herself a drink, a double, and threw it back with the practiced wrist flick of a woman who spent far too much time drowning her sorrows...a woman who drank alone far too often these days...

* * *

Gilbert Grissom was in his office, opposite of him sat the Sheriff himself. "Gil...it's a damn shame what happened to Warrick...But two CSIs and a detective taking off like bats outta hell is not the answer." The political beast, the Sheriff of Clark County, tugged at his tie. "Christ they went in there, busting down gates and doors like Charlie's Frickin' Angels." Grissom sighed, "The uniform was supposed to be there. I think you're missing the point where they saved Warrick's life." The Sheriff shook his head, "And you're missing the big picture, Gil. I can't have my people running around like vigilantes. The McQueen's lawyer is already raising seven kinds of hell because he had his face busted up." Grissom arched a brow, "I have no control over Detective Curtis." The Sheriff shook his head, "That's bullshit and you know it, Grissom. With Brass down...everyone is looking to you...I'm going to overlook this...behavior this time...but Sidle and Willows are walking fine lines...I don't want to lose them either, Grissom, they're damn good investigators...but CSIs don't bust down doors, threaten uniformed officers or fly down highways like stunt-drivers." He stood. "Get your people under control, Grissom...before they hurt someone...or get the lab in deeper shit then it's already in." Grissom inclined his head. "I was under the impression that my lab just solved another high profile case...I've already talked to the DA, they will be perusing the death penalty, it looks like a slam dunk...

The Sheriff left him alone and Grissom sighed... Everyone turned to him with their problems...and now, looking back over his life time he realized that the insects he'd dedicated it to...they couldn't help him now...in his greatest hour of need.

* * *

Tina Brown, well she wouldn't be for much longer would she... Signed the final form, initialed and turned to her lawyer... "It's done, then?" He nodded. She looked at her gold wedding band, sitting there in the palm of her hand. "Goodbye Warrick." 


	26. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Warrick rested on his hospital bed, oxygen filling his lungs...and a certain blue eyed blonde CSI filling his dreams.

Sara stayed up, waiting for the sun to rise...Trying to wait out the new nightmares she knew would come as soon as she allowed herself to rest. Another nightmare to join the rest of her demons.

Catherine lay in bed, groping for sleep that would not come. The adrenaline still pumped in her veins...the hurt still burned through her arteries...Sleep would not come to her.

Sofia slept, she'd knocked herself out with a dose of Night-Quil...Her body needed to rest...because she was already sore from taking down McQueen... It was a good kind of sore, though, an accomplished sore... Besides...her dreams were pleasant ones...Filled with visions of sad brown eyes and a gap toothed smile.

The case, that would be forever known as the Neon Killer Case, would remain with all that dealt with it...always on the edge of their memories, taunting them with what-ifs and could-haves...it would become one more scar on the already ragged psyche of Vegas...one more dark story of the Sin City history books.

* * *

Las Vegas, Nevada. It is a shining jewel of sin, home to Lady Luck and her fickle whims. Dreams are lost and found, made and broken in the simplest moments. An oasis in the middle of a vast desert, a haven in the wasteland. Vegas is truly a place of light and shadow. There in the perpetual neon day, the people bustle along, oblivious to most of what was happening around them. Most people are blinded by the flashing lights and false glamor of the city. A few see only the seediness of a sleazy town, dim and cheap under the hot sun. In any event, there are some constants in the town that greed built. The house will always come out on top, the buffets will never run out and the Angels of Vegas will keep vigil. Looking down on all, the tourists and the residents...Keeping watch...Impassively observing the good and evil of the city that never sleeps. Be they made of neon or of something more...spiritual...the Angels will watch...and perhaps even spread their gossamer wings to protect the city in spite of itself. 

Fin

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this, the first of the 'Of Vegas' Series...because I really enjoyed writing it.

A few thanks to throw out. Big 'thank yous' go out to: icklebitodd and HoneyLynx86 for their constant praise and support...and to everyone who reviewed and read this story.

_Coming Soon: Monsters of Vegas_

_When a vicious child killer begins hunting in Vegas, the lab must pull together before tragedy strikes too close to home. Will Sara be able to solve the case and toe the line...or will she go too far? _


End file.
